


this sort of thing is old fashioned

by tarquin



Category: The Creatures (Youtube RPF)
Genre: M/M, zombie apocalypse AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-07-14
Packaged: 2018-01-25 12:19:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 34,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1648379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarquin/pseuds/tarquin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>or: fighting the inevitability of love in the zombie apocalypse</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: This is a companion, or expansion piece on [this.](http://slymoose.tumblr.com/post/84641783801/how-it-feels-to-fall) You should really read that to get an idea of how things are. Legitimately sorry for the weakness of NovaHD in the first part. Legitimately sorry for the amount of commas.

The sun’s just clearing the distant tree line when Seamus blinks himself awake for the nth time that night. 

Well, it can’t much be called “Night” when the sky is pink and violet and just a little bit of blue, and the birds have been more awake then he’s been for the past two hours. But it’ been “night” for around eight hours now, and the dawn has only just become an extension of that.

He’s curled into a corner between two walls, one elbow propped on the windowsill next to him and other laxly clutching his knee. The weight of his eyelids lets him know that he could slip into sleep at any moment now and truthfully, it’s a tempting idea. The day promises to be a warm one, a welcome change from biting spring gusts of the past few weeks, and fighting the urge to let his eyes droop closed and lower his guard becomes a harder and harder battle by the second.

But he keeps himself up. He adjusts his glasses, wipes at his bleary eyes, and shifts as much as he can without disturbing the body next to him. 

Eddie sleeps there, tucked inside a sleeping bag with his back to his companion. Seamus had lost him to sleep hours ago, promising up and down that he would wake him up around the time the moon reached the middle of the sky so he could work his watchman’s shift. Then midnight had, of course, come and gone without incident or disturbance. And at the time Seamus had turned his attention from the round full moon hanging at its apex and had considered, for at least a whole moment, caving and giving Eddie’s shoulder a shake.

But at that point the boy had been facing him, and the light from the moon had showed off how utterly relaxed he was. No longer on guard, no longer tensed in worry or fear. Just lost to the escape of dreams. Happy.

Seamus’ first urge was to join him, as it almost always is. He could take this chance, skip out on the watch and scoot lower so their bodies were parallel, let his mind lapse into the heady darkness while leaving the fate of the others to hope and chance.

But he didn’t act on this. At one point he might have, but the desire was a passing one and all too soon he’d bit into his lip hard enough to bring his thoughts to the present, and instead of studying Eddie’s sleeping form he’d turned his attention back to the world below and its still unchanged state. 

He’d been keeping watch over a car-lot. One that in the old world might have been filled with the cars of businessmen and women who used this building as their place of work. Those people might have walked into the reception area below and seen the secretary’s desk that had yet to be snapped into pieces and used for firewood. They would have walked up the stairs, surely far less stained and dirty then they are now, and turned towards doors that would have taken them to their offices, and not the cracked windows and patched up walls that are there now.

At one point this old abandoned lot may have had a purpose that was not temporarily housing six vagabond kids, worn down by travel and battle and exhaustion. But that would have been a long while ago, and the more Seamus thinks about it the more frustrated it makes him, and so he tries to think of something, anything else.

Dawn comes quicker now, as spring takes back the world from the cold darkness it had been for so long, and every passing minute is one closer to getting him off the hook from his watch shift. Not that there’s much to do here, they were only supposed to stay for a few days and it’s been two weeks now. But most things are better than sitting here, cramped and tired, trying not to look at Eddie and trying to feel regret for letting him get another unbroken night of sleep.

Seamus has lapsed back into staring at him, a habit he really, really needs to break, when a noise from outside catches his attention. Birds, wild dogs, people, it’s been long enough that Seamus knows the sounds of them all. And this sound, footsteps, drunken shuffling footsteps with no reason or rhythm, does away with all of his dreariness from the night in an instant. All at once he finds his muscles tensing and his hand reaching to his beltloop. He frowns when his hand passes over the familiar place but doesn’t find the old hunting knife that he’d fastened there a hundred impaled monsters ago.

He turns and finds it scattered a few yards away, tossed there with Eddie’s own knife and glasses. Seamus blinks slowly, not letting his mind stray to the night previous and just why they’d needed to get those items, and their belts, and whatever else was in the way, as far away from them as possible.

It’s been a long night, and he’s thought about it plenty, anyway.

Stepping carefully, he moves around Eddie’s shape and picks up the knife, securing it where it belongs. A long while ago the most practice he’d had with any kind of knife had been smearing peanut-butter on to a piece of bread. Now he flexes his grip on it repeatedly, waking the muscles in his arm and hand to make sure his strike will be precise.

He turns back once, on his way to the stairs. Light is streaming in through the windows just enough to see Eddie there, undisturbed and peaceful where he lies. Seamus ignores the warm twist in his belly as he turns back, biting away a yawn and turning his attention to more important matters.

 

The second floor is occupied by another pair, but these two aren’t here to watch the night. He checks behind the staircase dutifully, finding James and Aleks sleeping well. Aleks has done away with most of the blankets they’d covered him with when the fever and shakes had him, and instead is wrapped in only one, his wounded leg sticking out and wrapped in the ribbons of an old torn janitor’s uniform they’d found in a supply closet.

James is next to him, but strangely enough he’s not Next To Him. For the past two weeks or so the boy has been Aleks’ shadow, there beside him always, to make sure he’s not in pain, that the shakes and delirium have gotten out of his system, and to make sure that he’d been breathing the whole night through.

And in this, James would usually sleep right next to, if not somewhat under the other boy. They’d set up their sleepspace right next to a balcony so that if danger presented itself they could make a clean getaway. But in this, the wall they’d slept on had been unforgiving and cold. James had taken the brunt of this by sleeping next to the balcony and forming a barrier between spring’s unforgiving bite and Aleks’ body. 

Maybe it’s just the warmth, Seamus figures as he turns away from the two. Now that James doesn’t need to keep Aleks okay, it would make more sense for them to not be on top of each other, anyway.

He doesn’t pay it much mind though, those two are strange. For a while, before the accident anyway, he’d been half convinced that on some level they hated each other’s guts. Or at least, that was the conclusion he’d come to after watching them bicker and argue for weeks on end as they traveled together. It didn’t exactly explain why they were also inseparable; rarely a shout away from each other and always chasing after danger together, but then again it wasn’t his job to assess their goings on.

And anyway, if there was anything the aftermath of the incident had come to prove, it was that under all the arguments and punched shoulders, there was a lot more to them than just hate.

Thinking this, Seamus’ stomach twists again. All the nights James had camped in vigil next to Aleks’ shivering body. All the times Aleks had refused to drink because it made him nauseous, until James snarled at him to put the water bottle between his lips. 

It was great for them, that codependency thing they’d cooked up. But it was also dangerous and foolhardy as hell, and he didn’t admire them for it.

 

The next floor of the building brings him to the main lobby, and a sleeping Jordan and a sleeping Dan. Poised on either side of the room they rest, passed out on the floor, three backpacks in various stages of unpackedness around them. The fearless leader and co-leader of the group, they’re as close to the emergency supplies as they are to their weapons. Seamus knows that he could say one word, maybe even let out an alarmed enough shout, and in seconds Jordan would have his bow strung while Dan wrestled his hatchet out of its holster of old belts. He’s seen it happen before, both of them springing to life and facing the danger tense like predators.

But he lets them rest. In numbers the Undead are a force, the number they’ve done to the human race proves this well enough. But one of them on their own is a nuisance at the most.

It hasn’t always been. But the bloodstains on the carpet haven’t always been there either.

&

The morning air is warm and humid, a welcome change from the ice-tinged gusts that have been haunting them since November. Stepping out into the sun and birdsong feels almost nice in a way, as long as Seamus makes a point not to notice that the only car in the lot besides their own was tipped on its side when they took refuge here, and that things are so utterly, utterly silent here, that the distant birdsong sounds cloying.

The Undead he’d spotted upstairs is not facing him, and shuffles along in a straight, unbroken line across the lot. He might be tempted to let it go along on its way, but the knowledge that the world will be plagued by one less of these monsters because of his actions is enough to press Seamus feet a little more forward.

He’s not cocky as he approaches it, nor is he timid. Calculated and precise would be the best words for the way his hand pulls the long knife from it’s sheathe, how his footfalls are gentle and don’t disturb the little piles of rubble and stone around him. Once, a long time ago, his heart would be in his throat and his hands would be sweaty and unsure, but this is no longer the case. There’s not even much of a struggle, his hand falls in a clean arc, landing bluntly. The force of the knife breaking through old bone makes his stomach lurch, but the beast falls without even knowing it had been killed, and maybe even alive.

Then he’s left with a dirty knife and an undead body, and he remembers all too well what makes this process suck. He can’t just leave this here to further rot, it attracts the dog packs and alerts people to groups camping nearby, and it smells just _fucking terrible._

The undead had been wearing a worn through t-shirt, too disgusting even for their own incredibly low cleanliness standards. Nothing on it can be salvaged, but at least it makes a decent rag for getting the thick, pulpy brain matter off his weapon. After that it’s a matter of disposal, and Seamus is just considering seeing how well he can roll it into a storm drain with only his feet when the sound of double doors opening behind him begs his attention.

“Nice, Seamus.” Jordan says as he walks out, his voice heavy with sleep. “Good job.”

Seamus gives a half-hearted wave to his leader, nodding before turning back to his burden. 

“You gonna kick it into that ditch over there?” Jordan asks, approaching him. Seamus crosses his arms, inspecting the gnarly pile of remains in front of him.

“I’m definitely not touching it with my hands.” He says decisively. 

“I wouldn’t either.” Jordan says, nudging it with the toe of his sneaker. And then, “Here, I’ll help you. Over there?”

They kick quickly, steering and dropping the thing down a small decline in the earth that separates the office building from a patch of woods that, had the end of the world not crawled out of a laboratory and sunk its teeth into patient X, would have been torn down later that year.

Ah well. The woods have yielded them at least three spring-lean squirrels since they’ve bunkered down here, so Seamus decides he’s grateful.

“We’re having a meeting inside soon,” Jordan tells him as they turn away from the ditch. “It’s about,”

“I think I know what it’s about.” Seamus says, cutting him off. “It’s probably about the same thing the last three meetings have been about. Am I right?”

“Yep.” Jordan concedes. “But we still need you there for support, so get inside and look alive.”

Jordan snorts to himself. ‘Look alive’ was probably supposed to be his attempt at a joke. Seamus wonders if he can find a way to roll Jordan into the storm drain with the undead beast.

As he approaches the stone steps that lead up to the office building doors, Seamus catches a small movement in the upstairs window. He squints up at it, thinking he can just see a shape inside stretching long arms above a ducked head, shaking off the wares of a long night’s sleep.

His muscles are heavy and his eyelids feel weighted and it’s not even midmorning, and his companion is upstairs shaking off his forty winks.

Seamus wants to, 

But he still doesn’t regret it.

&&

“We can’t stay here much longer.” Jordan says a few minutes later, standing in front of the lobby doors with arms crossed. Sunlight streams behind him and drapes his shape in heavy shadow, making his words all the more poignant. Or would, at least, if these weren’t the same words Jordan’s been saying since the first night they’d rushed in, carrying with them a bloody Aleks and a half-hysterical with worry Eddie and a cold, stone-eyed James.

All around the lobby the group is poised. Aleks had gently made his way down the staircase while Seamus had been outside, and now he sits on the second step up, looking too proud of himself. James is nearby. Dan’s close to where he’d been sleeping earlier, and it’d be a fair wager to say that he’d been woken up by the kerfuffle of everyone arranging themselves around him.

Eddie’s there too, Seamus is sitting across the room from him. Not on purpose or anything of course, he’d just chosen a place to sit while ignoring Eddie’s playful scowl that he’d worn since he first saw Seamus walk in.

How many times has he tried to thank Seamus and tell him not to do the whole sleeping through the night thing? Too many. Seamus doesn’t want to deal with it today.

“That’s a good plan, Jordan.” Dan says, lips quirked into a wry smile that then breaks into a yawn. “Let’s put it into action.”

“Oh, we will.” Jordan says. Seamus waits for it, _We Dern Sure Will,_ but it doesn’t come. Instead Jordan adjusts the hat on his head, brushing hair out his eyes and standing taller. “Now that Aleks is semi-mobile again, I want us to be out of here by tomorrow, the day after at the latest.”

More words they’ve heard a lot recently, but this time Jordan says them with weight. He paces in front of the glowing windows and is probably attempting to make eye contact with those likely to object, but it’s hard to tell with the heavy shadows.

“How are you planning on doing that?” James asks. When he speaks he does so with light hesitance, as he’s been the last one saying “A couple more days for it to heal over, come on,” for a while now. And Aleks, from his place tucked against one set of railings on the left of the staircase, gives him a look. James, resigned to the far right, returns it. 

“Well, we’ve picked the city clean of everything we could James,” Dan says, “Food, supplies, it’s bone dry now.”

“Everything but gas, that is.” Jordan adds. “And we’re gonna remedy that today.”

 

Traveling to California by foot had been the plan for most of the last year, at least through the summer and fall. But as a cruel winter had rolled in, their progress had come to a stern halt. The days where they weren’t tucked into abandoned houses or convenience stores for warmth were still ones of almost no movement forward, which was then regarded as failure. The terrain had been unforgiving enough to six backpackers in the summer heat, but in the Colorado winter there had just been no way.

It was James who had hotwired the first car, a huge van that had been left on the side of the road and taken them all of four miles before the fumes it had carried them on dissipated.

What followed that was a long series of trial and error that could be summed up in the express hatred of all smart cars, most gas-guzzling all terrain vehicles, and more than one bumpy ride in the deep back of a truckbed, clinging to one another in the cruel icy wind and swearing up and down, never again Jordan, never again.

Finally, struggle and luck had presented them with a tiny, cramped little silver Toyota that took the gas they learned to siphon and served as a warm, albeit terrible-smelling hot box through the longer nights.

It had also carried them far, far out of town that night, as four of the six crammed into the backseat chanting “Put pressure on it, put pressure on it, oh my god oh my god does it need stitches? Oh my god, Dan we need to stop. Oh my god.” 

 

Since then the car’s been sitting behind the building, gas meter so far past E that Seamus almost feels bad when he looks at it. They’ve been parked here as well, and just as immobile.

But Jordan is moving with confidence now, and he steps away from the light and behind the group, circling around with two bright red gas canisters in his hands. Seamus perks an eyebrow. The ones they’d used all winter had been left behind in the frenzy. 

“Me and Dan came across these beauties in town yesterday, but it was getting dark so we had to head back. But today we’re gonna fill ‘em up, we’re gonna fill up the car, and we’re gonna be done with this place once and for all.”

As far as plans go it could be worse, Seamus guesses. Anything that ends with them getting out of this place is a good plan to him. He must not look it though, hunched over on an old office chair, eyes lidded and tired, face set into the usual frown. He’s got his chin propped in the palm of his hand and barely thinks to look up when Jordan says his name.

“Seamus,” he starts, “You, me and James will go up to the city and see if we can’t get these filled. When we get back, hopefully Dan and Eddie can head down the other road and see if there’s anything salvageable from there. Alright?”

Seamus can’t really imagine moving right now. It’s usually not too bad after nights on the watch, he can meander on in a state of tiredness for hours without anyone noticing much of a difference in his demeanor. But last night had been a long one, and he doesn’t have a trip to the city in him right now. He’s about to vocalize this, preparing his argument to be shot down, when there’s movement in the corner of his eye.

“Actually,” Eddie says, raising a hand, “Uh, Seamus didn’t get much sleep on the watch last night, and I don’t think he’s alert enough for this kind of trip.”

The lie rolls out of his mouth so cleanly, even Seamus believes his tiredness had been caused by a fitful night of rest. Eddie turns to him and offers a kind smile and a shrug, and Seamus swallows the weird warmth that rushes through him, instead replying with a curt nod.

 _It’s because you’re exhausted,_ he thinks as Jordan takes Eddie’s words into consideration. _You’re feeling weird because you didn’t get any sleep._

He tells himself this as Eddie steps up to take his place on the assignment, all the while checking over his shoulder to try and meet his eye. Finally, Seamus looks up and gets a small flash of a thumbs up, and that makes him feel even weirder.

 _God, go to sleep._ He thinks to himself. _And soon, please._

He doesn’t get a chance to clock out though, not for some time. The rest of the meeting drags on in talks of water conservation and Who Is Pilfering The Canned Beets, and when it comes to a close things take to another flurry of activity. 

Eddie, along with his knife, gets handed Aleks’ baseball bat for protection. James is just fitting his shovel into place in its holster when there’s a thud from the staircase, followed by Aleks’ pained hissing. The shovel hits the ground with a heavy clang and Seamus rounds the corner to see bright red seeping through the janitor’s uniform, and within seconds James is by his side and their three man operation whittles down to two.

Aleks’ face, hearing this, molds into a hard frown.

&

It’s the goodbyes though, that take the longest. 

For a long time they didn’t mean anything really, just a formality born from traveling with a group for so long. So long, stay safe, good luck. All things ended with a pat on the back and no second thoughts, and unless someone didn’t come home around the right time or if trouble sounded off in the distance, there was no need for more.

Since the incident though, since the day that everyone remembered that their last words to one of their own could have been, “Yeah, good luck, see ya,” They’ve been a lot heavier. Jordan strings up his bow and loads his quiver, and the eye contact he makes with each member of the group is held long until affirmation glows in his eyes as well as their own.

At first Seamus does think to say goodbye to Eddie. They are friends, after all, and the boy is always endlessly kind to him when he’s sent out to work while Eddie stays back to guard. It would almost look like Seamus was avoiding him if he didn’t give him a friendly pat on the back and tell him good luck.

But at the same time it’s that very act that burns his gut when he thinks about it. Because it’s dumb to pretend that saying goodbye to him would feel the same as saying goodbye to Jordan or Dan. He knows the words will fall heavier, he knows if he looks Eddie in the eye and tells him he’d better make it back, that he’ll really, really mean it, and Eddie will feel the words deeper than just on his skin.

And that’s terrifying. It’s terrifying and a burden that he doesn’t want to saddle Eddie with, or himself for that matter.

But at the same time, pushing him away accomplishes nothing.

In the end he hovers downstairs by the windows, not doing anything particularly important but also duty-bound not to rest until the explorer party is gone. He’s not waiting, not expecting Eddie to approach him, but he’s also not even a little surprised when the other boy does.

“You let me sleep in again.” Eddie says, trying to wear a serious face but with a smile breaking through. Standing directly in front of him with his arms crossed he almost makes a serious picture, if serious were a thing Eddie could be.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Seamus deflects instantly. “I was supposed to wake you up when I needed to sleep and I didn’t need to sleep, so.”

“Sure, yeah, okay.” Eddie says, nodding. He pauses, and when he speaks again his voice is a softness that only ever crawls out late at night when they’re alone. “Thank you for it, though.”

Seamus’ skin is warm and he looks at the floor, at his hands, not in Eddie’s eyes. “Don’t mention it.” He fires back. “Really, don’t.”

“Don’t worry about it Seamus.” He places a hand on Seamus’ shoulder and keeps it there, even as the other boy reflexively tries to shrug it off. “And I’ll see you when I get back tonight, right?”

It hits heavier than a goodbye. His grip is tight and his gaze is unwavering, and Seamus knows he’s not just using pleasantries. A little while ago, Jordan had been discussing Aleks’ chances of survival through the infection and James had met his eyes and said in a voice like stone, “Aleks will make it through the night. Right, Jordan?”

And it wasn’t a question. It was a demand. A promise.

Jordan had replied, “Yes he will.”

Seamus’ mind had been a thunderstorm of if’s and do’s and don’ts as he’d been considering saying goodbye to the other boy. It had made his stomach roll and he’d made two false starts back up the stairs before making himself stop. Every implication, every affirmation that such an action could represent had played through his head, and in the end he just hadn’t allowed himself to do it.

Somehow he almost wants to laugh at the fact that while he was fighting back these invading feelings, Eddie walked clean through them, and had opened the conversation first. Of course.

Seamus meets his eyes and stops wriggling under his touch. “Yeah, you will.”

And he means it. And he doesn’t know if his affirmation carries more than those three words to the other boy’s ears, but Eddie’s grip does tighten on his shoulder, his eyes do go soft, if only for a second.

Seamus says it again, because these are words he finds he can make himself say. That he can allow himself to say.

“You will.”

And then with that the spell is broken, the goofball is back and grinning as the others get nearer. 

“Alright,” he says, patting his shoulder in that so friendly so, so platonic way, “Cool!”

Jordan calls for him then, and the other boy looks over his shoulder and then back to Seamus. Eyes the color of freshly overturned earth meet his own and one more time his voice goes soft.

“Get some sleep, okay Seamus? While we’re gone?”

It’s not like he can say no to that.

&

They leave shortly after, armed to the teeth and carrying with them the gas canisters in swinging arms. Aleks, temper shot due to his leg, retreats back upstairs and James, just amazingly, follows. Seamus curls up in the shade of one of the windows, propping his head up on a backpack that probably smells terrible, not that he’d be able to notice anymore. Images of Eddie are burned behind his eyelids, the sincerity in his gaze as he’d thanked him, the grin he’d wore when Seamus had promised that he’d see him again. He wants to fight them, tell his brain to default to something else for once, but it’s futile. 

And his eyes drift shut to the distant sounds of James and Aleks’ terse voices upstairs and Dan in the corner, shuffling papers.

&

“So we’re thinking of heading this way, up 67 and avoiding this cluster of towns, so we can make it out of here within a week. Here, here and here are the places we’ve marked for recon, though I have my doubts about…”

Dan’s finger trails over red sharpie lines on an old paper map, Seamus’ eyes following it halfheartedly. They, along with Aleks and James who had come back down sometime while Seamus was out, sit in a semicircle around one of the taller windows that lets in enough light to see by. It’s not particularly late in the day, and the sun stays up until around eight anyway, but heavy clouds block the light and paint the world several different shades of gray and blue.

Seamus had stirred around half an hour ago, grouchy and a little thirsty. So, Dan had said as he’d relayed this to the other boy, back to normal, basically. Seamus had snorted appreciatively, sipping off of a loaned water bottle before shrugging in agreement. 

Boredom, like most inconveniences these days, is something familiar to the waiting boys, and it hadn’t taken long for conversation to turn to the escape they were planning. And thus had led to the maps, and the discussion currently going on about the population of various small towns vs a cleaner break through a bigger city. It isn’t anything Seamus has effective input in so he stays quiet and watches, mostly disinterested. 

They’re in the midst of discussing the discourse for the one handgun tucked away in one of the bags when the sound of footsteps pounding outside grabs their attention, and Seamus’ head snaps up at the sound of a loud shout from Eddie beyond the doors.

“Hey!” Comes the cry, “HEY.” 

His voice announcing him, the twin glass doors of the office building are thrown open hard. Seamus has his knife out of its sheathe before Eddie’s chest has fallen twice from the frenzied panting he’s in the middle of.

“Guys!” he shouts, “Come on!”

“What’s going on, what’s happening?” James demands, getting to his feet. 

“It’s about to rain!” Eddie announces, and as Seamus’ eyes adjust to the flood of light from the doors, he sees that Eddie is wearing a wide, wicked grin. Aleks is the next to speak.

“Wait, what.”

Seamus swallows a snort, slowly easing the knife back into its holster. Around him the others do the same, relaxing and rolling their eyes at the boy who is beside himself with excitement.

“Come on!” He shouts, “Hurry up, get out here! Hordan’s got soap and everything!”

With the open doors comes thick, warm gust of wind that carries with it the heady smell of spring. After months of icy breezes, the smell of wet earth and new growth is a welcome change, and the pressure that hangs in the air does promise a downpour. Seamus, for as much as he wants to strangle Eddie for scaring him, does understand the excitement.

 

There are many things that had once been common that are now a luxury, and cleanliness is near the top of the list. Clothes get worn for days, if not weeks on end sometimes, and over time the most common reaction to body odor had been for someone else to snap for the offended party to get over it. Absolute cleanliness is almost unheard of, which is why they’ve had to create a system to deal with it.

In the winter it had been to scrape handfuls of snow over the worst of the areas, and that had been a nightmarish experience to say the least. But the summer and fall preceding it had introduced the boys to the miracle of a quick downpour, and just how much rinsing off could be done under heavy rain.

Seamus realizes that this must be the first real big storm promised on the wind since October, and he begins to get to his feet. He’s not as jazzed as Eddie, it would be very difficult _to_ be, but he does move a little quicker when he thinks about not having to tie his hair back anymore because the feel of it on his shoulders grosses him out.

James tries to give Eddie shit about the interruption, but he himself is interrupted by Aleks, who sighs exasperatedly “ _Finally_. I feel disgusting, let’s go James.”

Eddie’s near giddy at the entrance to the door, and Seamus follows him outside where Jordan’s close by, a bright blue bottle of dish soap in each hand. Nowhere to be seen however, are the gas canisters. Seamus tries to look for them but is instead tossed a bright blue bottle with a picture of a sponge on the front.

“Sorry about the brand,” Jordan says, “Couldn’t find shampoo. But this’ll do.”

Seamus turns to reply to him, probably with something about how it’s a good thing this stuff lifts tough grease or whatever, but that’s when the sky decides to unleash its bounty. Eddie’s next shout of excitement rivals the first grumble of thunder in volume.

Seamus stands, more than a little surprised as the world goes from a mildly humid parking lot to the middle of the Atlantic ocean in seconds. Sheets of rain fall down hard and it’s hardly seconds before he’s soaked through.

He should feel grouchy about how water is seeping into his socks and how he has to constantly blink it out of his eyes. But after so many months of scraping snow across himself to feel a semblance of cleanliness, just standing and letting the water do its job feels… nice.

Then Eddie’s shouting his name, really shouting it, to be heard over the pounding of the rain. Seamus blinks up to see the other boy about a foot in front of him, hand stretched out. He’s already got a white stripe of soap traced across the shirt on his abdomen, Jordan’s doing probably, and he’s grinning so, so widely. Seamus, remembering the bottle after a moment, hands it to him. He’s still standing there, just getting drenched and not knowing what to do, when Eddie grins. 

“C’mere.”

He could ask why. He could say no. Both choices flash in front of Seamus’ eyes, even as he steps forward and Eddie grabs his shoulder, leaning him down slightly. He should say no actually, it’s an action that’s about as instinctive as breathing at this point. But then wet and sloppy fingers are messing with the old ponytail holder that’s been holding his hair up for… he doesn’t want to think about how long, and he lets them.

“Hold still, okay?” Eddie shouts as loose hair falls over his shoulders and eyes. He can just see the other boy tip the bottle of blue liquid into his hand and he could object, it would feel right for him to, but instead he stays put, shivering only when Eddie’s fingers, guided by the soap, work through the longest tendrils of his hair.

It feels good, in a strange way. Almost anyone else touching his hair would have him reeling backwards in protest, but he knows these hands, he trusts them. Wants them. The rain thrums down hard still, it almost stings where it pelts any of his exposed skin, but under the care of Eddie’s hand everything feels amazing. He scrubs down to the roots and drags his fingernails down the nape of his neck, the motions soon becoming smooth and languid enough to draw a light shiver from Seamus’ body. Before he knows what’s happened Seamus has all but gone ragdoll under Eddie’s hands, locked knees being the only thing keeping him standing.

He notices this a second after Eddie does, and he only knows he’s second to the realization because a light chuckle breaks out of the other boy’s mouth and he laughs, “Feel good, Seamus?”

He laughs back. His clothes are sopping wet and heavy but he feels so light.

“Yeah,” he replies, “Yeah it does.”

And then he sees the bottle abandoned on the ground where Eddie had dropped it a minute ago. His fingers twitch and he grins at the ground where no one can see him.

“Here,” he says, “Let me show you.”

His finesse is, admittedly, less than Eddies’ had been, but Seamus doesn’t let that hold him back. Instead he pours the soap onto his palms and Eddie leans down like he’d been, so both of them are standing, bowed to each other. He brings his hands to the much shorter hair on Eddie’s head and runs his fingers through, imitating the movements that had drained the tension and weight from his body.

“Wow,” he hears Eddie breathe as he moves his fingers down his skull, then back towards his ears. “Wow.”

He’s so lost in the motions of drawing little soap circles into Eddie’s hair that it takes him a second to realize the hands on his own head have stilled. They rest on his shoulders now, and when he looks up he finds Eddie watching him with an expression so fond that the resulting rush of heat chases out any of the rain’s chill. Slowly, he drops his hands to Eddie’s shoulders as well and his heart is pounding so hard. The feeling that bubbles up in his gut is unmistakable, undeniable. How many times has he swallowed this fondness? How many times has he wanted this closeness, but fought it off?

They’re less than a foot apart and he thinks, and the thought scorches and freezes him down to the bone, that he wants so much for the other boy to kiss him right now.

Oh, _fucking hell._

But he doesn’t close the space between them. He doesn’t drag him closer to at least make it some kind of affectionate hug. His blood runs cold and his hands drop from Eddie’s shoulders as his eyes hit the concrete, and he mutters, “Thanks.”

Eddie had looked like he really wanted to kiss him too, and that look vanishes as Seamus steps away. The other boy swallows hard and rings out his hands, futile, as the rain is still falling so hard, and laughs “No problem.”

“Eddie, soap me!” Dan calls from across the lot. Seamus looks up to remember the world isn’t the tiny gray box crated by the space he’d put between them and instead finds Dan and Jordan waving to them from far away. If they’d seen anything, or if it had looked like anything at all, they show no indication of knowing. Eddie swallows again, hard, and then takes the bottle from Seamus’ hand, his fingers cold where they bump against his wrist.

“Eddie, now please?”

Seamus stands, stoic, as Eddie shouts for the other boy to shut up, he’s coming. He gives Seamus one last look and opens his mouth twice before the syllables make it out on the third try.

“You’ve still got some soap. Behind your ear.”

He touches him there, of fucking course he does, and then turns and bounds away.


	2. part 2

Seamus can’t believe it. He can not fucking believe it.

Yesterday in the late afternoon, he’d stood, stone still, and watched a boy who lived in the middle of an Undead Uprising run circles around a parking lot, cheering and clicking his heels together in the rain. He’d watched him laugh, watched him scream a few bars of a song Seamus didn’t know, and watched him flop back into a wide silver puddle as the downpour eased to a drizzle. When the boy was spent, he’d laid there, letting the last of the water take his soap suds away.

Seamus had watched this, all of this, without once rolling his eyes or scoffing. In fact he’d watched this while the inside of his body glowed a strange and unwelcome warmth that he had, for weeks now, been keeping under control. (Or fighting to, at least.) He’d watched this absurd boy who had the audacity to scream challenges at thunderclaps and who had only retreated inside their shelter when lightning started breaking the sky. And he had known, without a doubt, that he was doomed. 

Oh, and also, in love.

Which was a tough pill to swallow. But those brief moments of knowing, really truly and honestly knowing that he loved him, were good ones. They were ones that untied every knot he’d been collecting in his stomach for weeks. They shifted memories he’d purposely skewed into focus, and as he sat there under the pouring rain he’d gripped the feeling tight, let it pour through him and take him and have him. 

It had been so good.

Then he’d rinsed the last soap out of his ears. He’d dragged his hands over his armpits, feet, anything else that the rain needed to clean through, and had turned for the front of the building they were loitering in. By then the rain had slowed from the original downpour to a slightly inconvenient drizzle, no longer fit for washing dirty travelers, and so no longer fit for Seamus’ time.

Schlepping in with soaked shoes and heavy jeans and a mane of wet hair tailing down his back, Seamus had been so preoccupied with how his mind was whirring, _Finally, finally, finally you admit it. Finally you_ feel _it, this is so good,_ that he almost didn’t notice the two disheartened boys at the front door.

James stood inside, one hand on the glass, the other curled into a fist. Next to him was Aleks, dressed lightly, save for a fat black trash bag wrapped tightly around his leg. Both of them wore twin expressions of defeat on their faces, and a second’s more inspection told Seamus why. Both were bone dry.

Of course they were.

Because it’s pretty stupid to let a recently opened and cleaned wound get soaked through with rainwater. Because heavy storms never last for more than ten, maybe fifteen minutes. And because, of course, James would always choose to help Aleks get his leg safely fastened and ready for the rain instead of leaving the other boy to do it alone. 

And in this, both of them had missed the storm.

Seamus had felt bad for them, genuinely. Something like cleanliness and the freedom of a thunderstorm can do wonders for attitude, and missing out on it just plain sucked. But moreover, the warmth that he’d been fostering in his belly burned out all too fast as he’d remembered exactly why all those things he’d felt, he was feeling, for Eddie had been locked deep down, tight.

It can never be a good idea to tie oneself to another person. If anything, James and Aleks were living, breathing proof of this. 

Not only through the rainstorm did they prove this, that standing by someone’s side could so, so easily lead to missing out or holding oneself back in order help them. Hell, that could so easily just fall under plain loyalty. No, it was that Seamus knew that if Aleks were alright, James would have left his ass in the dust to dance through that rainstorm. He’d done it before, led the charge tons of times.

But he’d been by Aleks’ side for weeks now, ever since the boy had followed him into the old convenience store but fell behind on the way out. Ever since James had returned to their recon point without him, and his face had gone stark white when he’d realized his companion wasn’t by his side.

And that was the danger, and they were living proof of the punishment. That James had let himself care so much for Aleks’ life that he’d almost gotten sick when he thought they were losing him. That now he treads around him like a glass doll for fear that something might try to snatch him away again.

Seamus knows that what he feels for Eddie, what his gut cries out for, what his body craves when the other boy is resting beside him during long night watch shifts, can only lead to what James must have been feeling that night, as they found Aleks shuddering on the ground with his leg a red mess behind him.

And he can’t know, it’s too much of a risk to let himself find out, if the feeling of happiness that comes only from Eddie’s palm pressed warm against his is worth whatever he could feel if things took a turn for the worse.

&

He’s sitting on the stone steps outside the office building the next day as all of this tumbles through his head. He’s remembering the look on Eddie’s face in the rain and how he’d gripped his shoulders and how fast his heart had been pounding, all of it on a loop, and he smiles. 

Then, in direct succession, his mind takes him to seeing James and Aleks, forlorn and suffering another punishment for James having the audacity to care, and it wipes that grin away. It’s a cycle he can’t make himself break as much as he tries, there’s no damn distraction in this quiet empty world anymore. And it only gets worse when he remembers that in ten hours the sun will go down, and he and Eddie will probably be back on the roster for the night watch again.

And surely, in the light of the waning moon a hand will surely creep across his skin and squeeze his wrist, a single request, and this stupid game they’ve been playing since that one night during the dead of winter when it was too cold and their skin was so hot, will be played once again.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” Eddie had said, after maybe their third or fourth night shift that ended in bitten knuckles and short, stopped gasps. And above all things, he’d made that abundantly clear. It was nothing. It was finding warmth, it was making each other feel good. It was a meaningless way to pass time.

And the shit of it was, is, that he was completely right.

In the heat of the moment, at first anyway, Seamus didn’t care that it was Eddie’s skin on his at all. Only that he was warm in someone’s old abandoned attic. Only that he’d found a way to have his toes curl and his mouth go dry that was more efficient than before. And had it been Jordan or Aleks or Dan who had instead initiated things, Seamus doesn’t think that things would be this way with them.

Because upstairs, it hadn’t mattered that it was Eddie. 

But in the thick of things in the real world, and for a lot longer than he’s willing to admit, Eddie had mattered a lot.

The loud idiot, this impatient, often childish boy who laughs at the dumbest things and tells him, Seamus, in the midst of an undead uprising, to cheer up, had been heavy on Seamus’ mind for some time now. 

And he likes to think that he’d been on Eddie’s as well. If the way they gravitated towards each other over time, sharing food, then inside jokes then wry glances to make up for sentences they wouldn’t say out loud was anything to go by, Seamus was fairly confident that he carried some weight in Eddie’s mind as well.

But circling each other on egg-shells was one thing. Giving in to more carnal desires under the blanket of night was another.

But this, this weight that had bloomed in Seamus chest and dragged him down, down, down a path he knows is dangerous to walk? It’s new.

And it’s dangerous.

It’ll hurt, he knows, continuing to reject Eddies’ advances. Maybe the physical stuff is sending too much of a mixed signal, and he’ll have to cut it off. That’ll suck too and it’ll make the nights longer, but the rejection will do them good in the long run. Already Eddie turns away from him a little sooner at night, already the boy watches him as though he’s less of an enigma and with more detached, paltry understanding.

Yesterday Seamus had shrugged him off and he hadn’t even put up a fight. It makes his stomach twist painfully to think about, how at one point Eddie would have at least yanked him into a hug before sprinting off, but it’s for the better. He’s sure of it. He is.

Keeping Eddie at a safe distance is for the best. It’s the safest decision for both of them. It’s the right one.

 

“Seamus, hello? Seamus.”

The boy is so far gone in his head, he genuinely jerks up in surprise when James passes a hand over his eyes once, twice, to get his attention. Warm midday sun casts his face in shadow, but he leans back as Seamus comes to. He looks concerned.

Seamus passes a tongue over his lips, pretending he hasn’t been dwelling over life-altering decisions all morning. He says, “Yeah.”

“Eddie and Dan need you and the gas canisters down the road. They say it’s the real deal.” His hands are tucked tight in the pockets of the hoodie he’s wearing and he’s looking more at the building in front of them than Seamus.

“The real deal, huh? So we’re actually getting out of here.”

Seamus rouses a mild hum of happiness in his voice, but James’ retort is a more stinted “Yeah.” And, as one thought process ducktails into another for him, “Is Aleks inside?”

Two weeks and some days and the healthy growth of new pink flesh later, James still sounds on edge when it comes to the other boy. As though any answer other than the obvious is still waiting in the shadows. Seamus eyes him.

“Nah, he left.” He says, just to see his face fight off a frown. And it works, if only for a second. James tosses him an amused glance and his middle finger as he starts up the stairs, adding in a lighthearted “Hey, fuck you,” as he opens the doors.

“You too, man.” Seamus laughs. Maybe James could have some insight on how to handle the firestorm in his gut. If he was ever three feet away from Aleks anymore, he might actually find time to ask him.

“The canisters are in the Toyota’s trunk, by the way.” James adds, and the door shuts behind him.

&

Yesterday’s town sweep had led Eddie and Jordan back with just enough gasoline to please them, and nothing from the town itself. Not too surprising really, considering they were parked on the outskirts of a popular city that people had to pass through in order to access major roads. Finding the place not looted clean would have been much more surprising, and being able to siphon as much gas as they’d gotten had been a gift.

But the walk back home had presented them with a new surprise, they’d explained later that night after the rainstorm had moved on. Three cars that hadn’t been there that morning, parked in succession on the side of the road, ostensibly abandoned. A couple taps on some windows and a few crossed wires had revealed to them that at least two of them were out of commission, burned out from poor care and long travel. But a third had held promise, though by then the storm had been at their backs, as had the setting sun. Hope, a small stirring flame in their chests, had led them to the decision to check it out the following day.

Now Seamus walks up the road, the two remaining empty gas canisters thumping steadily against his legs. In the wake of the storm the day is cooler and kinder, and even though he prefers the steady thrum of the rain it’s hard to keep his scowl. Especially as Dan and Eddie come into view, Eddie sat on the rear end of a car with his hands behind his head while Dan leans into another one’s interior. 

They both look up as he approaches though, in varying levels of cheerfulness.

“How’s it looking?” He asks as he closes the space between them.

“Pretty good.” Dan says back to him, wiping his hands on his pants and looking away from the car closest to them, a pale blue thing with a near-flat tire on the back right. 

“Front car’s done for,” Dan says. No one in their group is much of a mechanic, or even relatively close to being one. So over time it had become clear that cars that couldn’t be started by gas or new tires or a kick to the bumper were pretty much ones they’d have to pass up. Seamus grimaces.

“Second one is on its last legs.” Dan continues, “But this one’s just empty and a little low on air, and I think if we can get it back to the office we can officially have two cars to travel with.”

“No more four people in a three person back seat!” Eddie cheers from the other car.

And more room for supplies, Seamus thinks. More need for gas too, but that hasn’t really been an issue except for this one emergency. Having two cars would get them to far, so much faster. It’s the best news he’s heard all day.

“Sounds good.” Seamus remarks, plunking down the canisters. “And the gas?”

“Front two look like they’ve got enough.” Eddie reports. “So we should be able to come back with a full haul.”

“…And the owners?” Seamus ventures to ask. At this they go silent.

“No sign of ‘em.” Dan says after a weighted pause.

Eddie chimes in with, “Probably… headed into town?” 

Seamus considers this, or rather, considers humoring Eddie’s idea. He goes for it with a light, “Sure.”

And then they waste no time thinking more on it, because if the owners of the cars come back they’ll deal with it then, but until that point comes they can’t waste time or energy on pity. Seamus heads to the first car in the lineup and Eddie shimmies off the rear of the last one, on his heels. If he’s got thoughts about yesterday he keeps them to himself, only nudging against Seamus in his usual ways, brushing against his side to kneel beside the gas tank, and bumping his fingers against the other boy’s knuckles to ready the gas canister.

He’s being quiet through all of this and that could be, should be telling of _something._ This is _Eddie,_ after all, who isn’t quiet in any aspect of his life. 

But it could just be that he’s been working long rubber tubes into gas tanks for months now, Seamus tells himself, and it takes a certain amount of concentration to not have toxic chemicals spurt out one’s nose.

Seamus monitors the other boy as he siphons the gas, which looks to be about the worst thing a person could do. According to Eddie it’s not too bad, mostly it’s just sucking hard and trying not to get gasoline in his mouth, but the face he makes as the pale liquid starts flowing doesn’t make the process look too enjoyable. After every few breaths he turns and coughs, eventually scaling from light huffs to full on hacking, but every time he goes back to get more liquid moving.

Seamus won’t admit it of course, but this does pique his worries.

(Because seeing anyone huff air into a gas canister and then choke on their own spit would do that, of course.)

But. Seeing Eddie do it repeatedly, as he’s the only one among them who can do it without _throwing up,_ puts Seamus on edge in a weird way. Hadn’t he decided he wasn’t going to pay special attention to Eddie’s wellbeing? Isn’t that what had prompted this long breakdown?

They’re at the tail-end of the second car’s tank when Seamus can’t take it anymore, and he pushes Eddie to his feet. The other boy stares at him with wide, glossy eyes before coughing again into his fist. “What’s the matter?” He wheezes.

“Just.” Seamus says, trying to sound nonchalant. “Take a break, okay? You’re gonna get high off of this and then what will we do?”

The first thing Eddie does is shrug and say “Sounds like a good time to me,” flashing him a quick smile, but at Seamus’ crossed arms and unimpressed face he folds. The canister lands on the ground with a thud and he takes a few steps away, keeping his eyes on Seamus most of the time.

_Step one, don’t care about, dote on, or expend excess energy in keeping Eddie Cardona alive, because it’s going to bite you in the ass._ Seamus thinks. Then he fishes out a water bottle from the backpack Dan had brought with him and hands it off to the dizzy boy beside him, telling him to take deep breaths.

Easier planned than done. As most things are these days, really.

“So how’s it looking over there?” Seamus calls out to Dan while Eddie rests beside him. Dan is crouched over the blue car’s popped hood and pulls back when Seamus’ voice reaches him. He doesn’t look downtrodden or tired, which is as unusual as it is a good sign.

“I really think we might have a second vehicle.” Dan says, getting to his feet. “Someone really took care of this thing, it’s in great shape. I mean, from what I can see,”

Dan’s about ten or eleven feet away from them when the foliage beside him breaks, and two sluggish bodies haul themselves out of the underbrush, long bony fingers extended and mouths gaping. Dan shouts, reeling backwards. Seamus’ hand is at his belt before his mind can register that he’s moving forward, skittering to the side when another ugly, dead-eyed monster lunges between the bumpers of the two cars.

“Ah shit, ah, shit.” He hisses. It’s a lot to take in all at once, and there was a time when his body wouldn’t know to turn away like it does now, and how to strike so heavily with the weapon in his hand. But time has made him into a much better fighter, and he uses the panic at the sudden attack to move him forward, rather than stifle him further. 

He wheels around lifting the blade in his hands, and suddenly he doesn’t think he’ll be worrying much about the owners of the cars coming back to reclaim their property.

He deals with the one nearest to him swiftly. It had toppled over at his feet after lunging at him, and in Seamus’ brain some instinct jumpstarts, directing the heel of his sneaker to the highest point of the creature’s spine. With it held down then, all he has to do is kneel and, pressing the flat of his palm down on the handle of his knife, the blade breaks bone fast, hard, and the reanimated body under him stops fighting.

When he looks up he sees Dan in full swing, literally, as the hatchet in his hand completes a rotation. One of the bodies falls to the ground instantly with a splash of dark red and brown. Another loses what had been left of its jaw and tries to amble closer, but by then Seamus is there, and it doesn’t make it another foot closer.

“Jesus.” Dan breathes, “That came out of nowhere.”

“Yeah, no shit.” Seamus says, sucking in a breath. He hadn’t even realized that his heart had been pounding, but now his pulse is loud in his ears. He reiterates his thoughts in the cool down, “I don’t think we’ll have to worry about the owner of the cars anymo-“

That’s when Eddie screams.

The sound is a familiar one, or it at least could be. There had been no measure of the various ways in which that boy had squawked and shrieked over the past year and a half, and Seamus had thought he’d heard all of them. Multiple times.

But the wail that erupts from behind him, something feral, something that breaks from the chest of a cornered animal with no place to run, makes Seamus’ blood run cold. He just has enough time to see Dan’s eyes go over his shoulder and widen, widen just enough to make his heart sink, before he’s turning, moving forward without so much as knowing what he’s rushing towards.

God dammit. No.

Three are what he’s facing. One near to him, one midway between them, and one toppled over at the waist, moving steadily towards Eddie who is still on the ground, fumbling backwards with wide eyes and jerky movements.

Because it had been _such_ a good idea to leave the one physically out of commission, the one resting, the one with a spinning head and the reaction time of _shit_ , on his own.

Vaguely, Seamus is aware of Dan at his side as he rushes forward. He doesn’t even bother with the first undead, either through confidence that the man next to him has it under control, or because the tunnel vision he’s operating through has excluded everything, everything that doesn’t immediately hinder him on his way to the boy on the ground.

The second undead is unavoidable, it’s sensed him or scented him or however these things detect their prey, and it turns towards him as he tries to get past. The mechanical motions take over again, practiced, skilled. It’s taller than him but all it should take is one or two strikes. He’s done this literally hundreds of times. The undead near Eddie is closer and the boy himself is coughing, staring dizzily ahead and scrabbling to get up, but toppling over.

Seamus’ arm moves in a clean arc straight towards the meat of its brain.

And misses.

It shouldn’t matter in the long run. It takes him seconds to recover, seconds to take his eyes off Eddie and on to the beast that strains its neck to snap at his throat. He has it at arms length and when he twists away from it again the blade slides cleanly into the rotted flesh at its temple. It drops and he moves forward, but already it feels like he’s wasted too much time. Walking away from Eddie, wasting time. Not looking at him this morning as he’d headed out, wasting time. Not bridging the gap between them yesterday and holding his warm skin so close, wasted, wasted time.

It’s got its arms on Eddie when Seamus reaches them, and he grabs it and yanks the beast up, but it only half-works. His goal had been to distract it or get if a safe distance away from his friend but it’s focused. It jerks towards him momentarily, but it’s fingers are twisted in Eddie’s shirt and it doesn’t so much as falter when Seamus tries to pry it off. Its jaws are snapping wildly, Eddie is resisting as best he can but it’s on top of him, writhing. It had once been the body of a grown man and now it’s like trying to throw a mountain off of him.

Seamus gives in, reaches for his knife, it won’t be easy to get a clear shot because nobody is holding still but anything, any decision is better than what the next two seconds will bring.

And then the polished wood in his hand gleams in the sun as it slips from his grip, tumbling out of his fingers and on to the pavement.

Seamus stares at it, almost dumbly, before his fingers tighten again in the fabric of the undead’s shirt, keeping it far enough away from Eddie so that no skin will break. He can’t let go. He can’t move. This thing is strong and if he moves away from it then it will sink its teeth into Eddie’s neck and all Seamus can feel is white cold terror.

He looks down, past its shoulder and sees Eddie staring at him, eyes wide, mouth open in a silent scream, a kind that Seamus has never experienced before. He’s begging, begging for Seamus not to let go, and Seamus yanks at the best in response. Like hell he’ll let this happen. Like hell he’ll lose Eddie like this.

And in this moment, Seamus remembers looking at James as he’d watched over Aleks. He remembers the feeling of discomfort that had burned through him, a strange repressed pity that James was so worried about the fate of the other boy that he refused to hear that he could die. He remembers thinking about what a bad decision this could be, to feel this way in a world that could so easily take that person from them. 

Eddie stares at him, scared, pleading for Seamus not to falter his grip, and Seamus realizes now that he is every bit the same.

He understands, as he sees a line of black drool pool on Eddie’s throat, the fight to keep this person who is so important to him alive. He doesn’t feel it through logic or what’s best, but instead it grabs him viscerally. He’d long since passed having a choice in whether or not it was the right decision to feel for him. He feels for him now, and he will protect him now, and that’s all he has.

In the next moment he thinks of Eddie, and how excited he’d been for the rain. Because, not in spite of but because, it had been fleeting. Because it had been special, and because he’d known that it might not be there for long. 

As Seamus’ fists go white and he yanks again and again to dislodge the beast from Eddie’s body, he regrets every second he didn’t spend letting himself love this boy. For so long he’d told himself that it would only lead to pain in the end. Every wasted second spent not wringing out every laugh and smile he could out of him because it might be inconvenient later. 

But now this is the end. And in the face of losing Eddie he realizes that he wants this more than anything. That he could have been having something special for so long and he’s staring at never having it again, at _the_ worst case scenario in the face and _he still wants it._

 

It almost takes him a second to register the red of Dan’s hatchet and the thud of its impact and the thick, black goo on his hands in the seconds after the body falls. It takes time for breath to find his lungs again and for him to roll the weighted body off of Eddie’s rigid form. When it’s off of him, Seamus finds that he’s actually gone boneless, that his knees wont lock, and he instead falls to Eddie’s other side. His hands are shaking. His body is shaking.

Eddie looks at him and there are scared tears running out of the corner of his eyes and Seamus finds strength, if only for a second, to cling to him. Eddie acts in kind and his hands grasp at him, at his shoulders, at his arms. Eddie buries his face into Seamus’ shoulder and he’s shaking too, and for a moment they stay that way.

“You’re okay.” Seamus breathes like a mantra. “You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay.”

“Yes.” Then Eddie begins to answer, as the sobs die down and the shaking subsides. “Yes, yes, yes.”

“That was close.” Comes a strange, tertiary voice in their two-soul world. Seamus blinks up to see Dan standing at their feet, hatchet at his side. With him, the rest of the world slowly comes into focus and Seamus regains his bearings. He moves gingerly, until he’s sitting up and Eddie is with him, breathing heavily and nodding.

“Holy shit.” He breathes. “Holy shit.”

The bodies lie on the ground all around them, the largest beside them, missing the top half of its cranium. Seamus flexes his fingers, tangled tight in the fabric of Eddie’s shirt and he croaks out his own agreement, “Holy shit.”

“I think we should get back to Hoardan now.” Eddie says in a small voice, and Seamus wants to pull him closer again, just to assure him that it’s all okay. He doesn’t, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be capable of sudden movements again, and for now he settles for kneading the fabric in his fingers while Dan surveys the cars and gas canisters littered around them.

“Yeah,” he says after a moment’s pause. “I think we should.”

&

Seamus never really understood the whole “Being absolutely inseparable from a person” thing before, he’s always been a man who values his space. But in the wake of the attack as they gather up gas canisters and Dan reaffirms that he and Jordan will take care of the car, Eddie and him can go home, Seamus finds he can’t take his eyes off the boy for more than a few seconds. 

Bend down to pick up something? Check fervently to the left to make sure other boy is still present. Walking in a straight, direct line from point A to point B? Better make sure to stay glued to Eddie’s side the whole time, just in case another undead linebacker appears out of thin air and tries to snatch him away again.

About a half hour into this mentality though, Seamus comes to realize why he’s never adopted it before. It’s fucking draining.

It takes a little while for the initial shock to die down and for Eddie to come back into himself, starting with little chuckles at someone’s comments and eventually ending up with him stomping his feet on the ground and yelling, “That was fucking insane! Holy shit!” As he comes to fully realize the events that just took place.

Seamus smiles as he starts to see his friend find comfort in his skin again, and as Eddie begins to wane away from quiet and spooked and back into his usual exuberant self, he finds he can stop panicking as much. Eddie’s still here. He’s still okay. And Seamus values this harder than he ever had before.

By the time they end up back at the office, he’s stopped clinging magnetically to Eddie’s shoulder and is instead just keeping close. Seamus finds a new level of appreciation for James, who he’d once regarded as overbearing after Aleks’ incident, and now he understands on a level that he wishes he didn’t. Seamus doesn’t think that two weeks from now he’ll still be puppydogging it around on Eddie’s heels to make sure he made it to piss okay, but at least for now he understands the tight lipped worry that had hung on his face after Aleks’ incident. He kinda feels bad for rolling his eyes at it the other day. Kinda.

Eddie plunks down on a chair on the side of the room and starts draining a water bottle that had been there waiting for him. Seamus hovers, acutely aware that he’s standing close and normally he wouldn’t stand close but it doesn’t feel _right, okay,_ if he’s not standing close.

It’s not even that Seamus thinks another disaster is on the way, or more on the way than it’s been for months. Partially, he just wants to be near him. He wants Eddie’s energy beside his calm, he wants to feel the brush of Eddie’s skin against his arm as they sit near to each other. That alone has been a rock trapped in his stomach for weeks. Now he pulls up a chair next to the boy and sips off his water as Dan recants the day’s events.

Eddie gives him a small look but Seamus just keeps his eyes level, shrugging. He relaxes a second later and eases out so their knees touch, and Seamus is so grateful.

&

The rest of the day is eaten up by menial acts. Jordan and Dan leave a little after the debriefing and a quick refueling. The rest of them get to work in whatever ways they can, packing up what’s absolutely necessary, circling the outside woods for Jordan’s animal traps, and eventually helping with the spare tire once the others get back. 

The last action is done as the sun lazily drifts under the horizon and concludes with a round of fanfare.

“We’re getting out of here first thing, boys!” Jordan announces triumphantly over their applause. And Seamus wants to feel better than he has these past two weeks. And he does, sort of. He feels lighter; the relief at the escaping the claustrophobic nightmare of the building is no small thing. 

But there’s still a weight in there as well, a heaviness that worries the back of his mind. And it’s one that mostly concerns the boy to the left of him who is being told not to honk the damn car horn, or do you want a repeat of this morning, you moron.

“So who’s got watch tonight?” Jordan asks as they file back into the building, propping the door shut behind them. “Me and Dan had it last night so it’s among you four.” He points to Seamus, Eddie, James and Aleks.

Usually Seamus is hesitant to accept the burden of the night watch. For one, it sucks. It’s uncomfortable and boring and drains him of any energy he might have the following day. The fact that it took him and Eddie as long as it did to start reaching hands under waistbands just to pass the time is astounding to him. But tonight he gives Eddie the most pointed look he can in the dimness, almost eagerly rushing out “Yeah me and Eddie could take it I guess.”

With the lack of light he can pretend he doesn’t see the squints and tipped heads he gets in response. From everyone but Eddie at least, who tacks on with a light laugh, “Sure Seamus, I’ll be happy to do the watch with you tonight.” In a voice that suggests he’s less eager than he appears.

After that Jordan says something about food and all heads turn back to him instantly. Seamus gives Eddie’s shoulder a light check though, as he passes him. One, as an apology for dragging him into the watch without asking first. But secondly, as a reassurance. The day’s events were long and chipped at a lot of walls Seamus had spent time and energy erecting. But it’s not over yet.

&

Or, Seamus was under the impression that it was not over yet.

To be perfectly honest, Seamus isn’t quite sure what he’d thought the night would bring, once rations were cleaned out and goodnights were shared. He and Eddie had gone through the paces, upstairs, far left of the room, Seamus perching next to the window while Eddie wrestled with his sleeping bag until he was comfortable. He’d figured the day’s ordeal would come up fairly quickly, Seamus holding a snarling drooling beast inches away from Eddie’s jugular just long enough to save his life and all, but the most they’d bled out of that was Seamus looking out the window, throat tight.

“I’m glad you’re okay.” He’d managed, sounding so cool, so casual.

“Yeah.” Eddie had answered shortly after. “I’m glad you are too.”

And then they’d let the conversation die, and Seamus is cursing himself for it. He can feel them, thick, heavy words circling in the back of his throat. There are words scaling his ribcage and his foot taps a staccato beat as he tries to find them a way out.

Eddie shifts uncomfortably as well, more than usual. He huffs little breaths and watches the moon rise with Seamus, which is unusual in and of itself. Usually these nights are quick conversation, a different kind of quickie to get the stress out, and then Eddie making Seamus promise to wake him up in two hours and Seamus ignoring it. 

Tonight though, neither of them have even made moves towards the intimate. There’s a heaviness in the air, but not the usual kind.

Every time Seamus looks over at him, he catches Eddie’s eyes on him, though he looks away quickly.

Eddie clears his throat in the quiet and Seamus has never been so happy for the noise. At least until Eddie turns on his side a second later, away from him.

_Come on, just say something!_ Seamus thinks to himself. _Just let it out. You’ve thought about this all day and you can’t find one way to say it. Goddamn it._

“Hey, Seamus?” Thank God.

“Yeah.” He says back quickly.

“I know I say this every time but, really, could you wake me up for my shift in a little while? You’re driving tomorrow, I don’t want you falling asleep behind the wheel.”

Seamus laughs to himself, just a little. He’d already been planning on pulling the all-nighter, and not even for Eddie’s benefit. He just doesn’t see himself falling asleep too soon when his head is this wasp nest of activity.

“Yeah man,” He says after a pause. Eddie makes a compelling argument, after all. Veering them off the road won’t do anyone any good. Hopefully sleep will have him later. “Will do.”

“Awesome.” Eddie hums contently. Seamus’ hand drifts over just a few inches, giving Eddie’s shoulder a friendly shake. The weight of him is a comfort.

A minute later Eddie’s voice breaks the quiet again. “How do you even do that anyway?” He asks, still with his back to the other boy.

“Do what?”

“Stay up all night? I’ve tried before but unless I had like, soda and stuff, there’s no way it would happen.”

Seamus exhales a little. Conversation, good. Words easing their way out of his lungs and into the cool night air. Even these ones, weightless pleasantries, are a relief.

“I dunno.” He says. “It’s not really that much of a process for me. I just keep an eye out for trouble and, you know, think about stuff. Then eventually the sun comes up and I’m good to go.”

“Oh, that’s cool.” Eddie says dismissively. Seamus notices how, unlike usual, his voice isn’t getting heavier. He’s not talking himself to sleep, which is new.

A beat. Seamus cringes. Usually they can at least bullshit about _something-_

“What kinds of stuff do you think about?”

“Huh?”

“To keep yourself awake, I mean. I mean, you don’t have to say, I was just curious because,”

“No, it’s fine.” Seamus says. He thinks for a moment, mind rolling over the hazy, oft-repetitive thought cycles he’s had these past few weeks. There’s one thing that comes up most frequently of course, and it also happens to be curled up next to him, inches away.

“I just, stuff, I guess. I don’t know. The world before it went to hell. Food. Video games.”

“How about air conditioning?”

“Oh my God, yeah, that too.”

“Hot showers.”

“Stop throwing things out, you’re gonna hurt me.”

“Fresh laundry, electricity, radio music,”

“Eddie, please.”

He giggles, and it feels like it’s been years since Seamus has heard that noise, relaxed and earnest. It makes him smile. Makes his stomach churn.

“Sorry! Sorry. You got me feeling all nostalgic.”

“Yeah well now I’m gonna be like that too. Thanks a lot.”

“I said I was sorry!”

“Yeah, okay.”

It’s easier now. He feels like there’s air in his lungs again, like his body isn’t so tense. His muscles feel loose and there’s a soft smile on his face and when he looks over he sees Eddie’s turned to face him, just a little bit. 

It feels like water, the next moment, running through clean pipes, pouring unhindered. The words are terrifying even as they break to the air.

“I think about you, sometimes.”

Eddie giggles again, the response so mechanical that Seamus could have predicted it himself. “What do you mean?”

His mouth gapes for a second, just one, as he realizes he’s run out of preplanned words. He sits there, fish-mouthed for a second, before a tighter fear finds him.

“You know. I mean, I guess, sometimes I think about you, and about… us, how it would be if things were normal.”

In his head that had sounded like a proper ending to a conversation, he swears it did. But in the open it’s harshly empty, a pillowcase with no pillow, waiting to be filled in and given weight.

Eddie’s response though, is just as timid. His own nervousness is almost a comfort to Seamus, who still kind of wishes he hadn’t said anything but at the same time is also so, so happy it’s finally getting said.

“Really, you do?” Eddie asks him, trying to sound uninterested and just utterly failing.

“Among other things, I guess.” Not that Seamus is one to talk about being bad at Nonchalance. And he’s had way more practice.

_Just! Say! It!_ He hisses to himself. He can’t make them come, the weighted words. The ones he’d needed Eddie to know earlier as he’d thought he was going to lose him forever.

There’s a shuffling next to him as Eddie worms out of his sleeping bag. A moment later he’s sitting up and facing Seamus, and seriousness is a strange look on him for sure.

“Will you tell me?” He asks.

“What?”

“Will you tell me what you think about, when you think about me?”

_I don’t know how!_ Seamus wants to scream. _Trust me, if I did, you wouldn’t be fighting it out of me right now. The only thing I want more than you knowing that I care about you is being able to tell you in the first place, dammit!_

“About how it would be to hang out with you.” He says after a pause. “Without being scared for our lives, I mean.”

He could leave it at that. Eddie’s face softens again, and Seamus could let it go. Let it be another “I’m glad you’re safe.” And nothing else.

But he pushes steadily onwards, even when his skin is hot and he can’t look at Eddie anymore as he makes himself say it. Little noises come out of his throat first, then the words. Words that are scarily honest, not hidden behind filters. He can’t believe they’re real words at all.

“… About how my mom might not be cool with this type of thing, so you’d have to sneak in through my bedroom window. And... “ God, here it goes. “Sometimes when the sun comes up in the mornings I look at you, and I think about my bed back home, and how you’d look in it, and how you’d smell like my sheets.”

His skin has never been so hot. His throat has never been this dry. He wonders how much force it would take to get this window open enough for him to jump out of it.

“Seamus.” Eddie’s voice is awed. “Holy shit, dude.”

“Yeah, y’know. I think about a lot of things.”

Then Eddie’s hands are wrapped tight around his arm, turning him. Seamus can’t help but choke out a laugh when he sees how lit up Eddie’s face is, almost ecstatic. His hands are shaking.

“So you do like me!” He gasps, shaking Seamus ever-so slightly.

Seamus huffs, letting the moment slip through his fingers. “Asshole! “ He scoffs, “Of course I like you.”

Eddie drops his head, propping his forehead on Seamus’ shoulder. “No, I mean, you know what I mean!”

“Yeah,” He does. His stomach is doing flip flops and backflips. “I mean,” He exhales hard. “Yeah.”

Eddie’s grip on him is tight. His voice is so excited; he’s a contagion of happiness.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Seamus?”

He turns to look at Eddie, face set back to a more default, unamused expression. Eddie though, still beaming. His heart’s still clattering like a bird in a cage.

“Because _that_ was so easy to say, right.”

He can’t even hold his usual harshness in his tone. Not that it doesn’t bounce off the other boy immediately. 

“Seamus this is a big deal!” He says, shaking him again. “I’ve been wondering for so long, oh my God! This is great news! Wow!”

Now Seamus can’t stop the smile that rises to his lips. His shoulders start to shake on their own with the chuckle deep inside him. Of course this is the best news Eddie’s ever gotten. (Of course he feels the same!) He has to hide his face in his hands because this is ridiculous. Fucking insane.

“What is it, what’s the matter?” Eddie asks after a second. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” He answers fast. “It’s just. This is messed up, you know?”

“No…” Eddie draws out the word. “Not really.”

“Eddie, it’s the end of the fucking world.” Seamus says. There’s a war between the warmest ball of light that’s ever been fostered in him and the blackest, tariest fear in Seamus’ gut, and he sways between their grips. “Do you know what a bad idea this is? You almost died today. I almost watched you die.”

Eddie moves closer to him, and Seamus responds in kind. He wants him. Wants his warmth, his presence. He wants him to keep his chin hooked on his shoulder.

“I know I did.”

“No, but you don’t get it.” Seamus interrupts. “Because I’ve been telling myself for months not to do this, because it’s too dangerous. And you know what I found out when I thought I was gonna lose you? Without ever telling you anything? When I thought it was better _not_ to tell you?”

“What’s that.” Eddie’s voice is soft, his breath is warm.

“It didn’t matter.” Seamus admits, like he’s admitting defeat. “I still wanted it. I still wanted… you,” (When will that get easier to say?) “And I was mad at _myself_ for not acting sooner. It’s goddamn ridiculous.”

It’s about now that Seamus realizes that he’s being assimilated into a hug, shifting closer and closer so they’re sharing space, so one of Eddie’s arms is slung around his side. 

“Well there’s your answer right there, isn’t it?” Eddie asks. “It was worth it even when you thought it wouldn’t be.“ Leave it to Eddie of all people to put such a big concept into such clean words.

“Or are you still having second thoughts?”

“That’s the worst part.” Seamus says, turning to look at him and finding his head close enough so their foreheads almost touch. “The only thing I’ve been thinking all day is what a bad idea this should be, and how mad I am at myself for not telling you sooner.”

“I don’t think it’s a bad idea, Seamus.” Eddie sighs. “I think we don’t get enough happy things anymore, you know? No hot showers, video games, air conditioning.”

“I asked you to stop with that.”

Eddie chuckles against his collarbone. His skin tingles there for a second.

“But you’re… a happy thing for me, you know that? The way you fight, no matter what. How you make things better even when you pretend they’re worse. You’re funny and smart and I like being around you… and I really think of you as one of my good things left on this planet.” He pauses, and Seamus considers for the first time what it must be like, being Eddie and having a hard time getting words out. It’s borderline tragic.

“And if you want, I can be one of your happy things too.”

Seamus smiles. His hands find their way up to where Eddie’s circled his waist with his arms. Eddie’s fingers detangle and re-tangle around his own. The words find their way out easier than he thought they would.

“I think you’ve been one of my happy things for a really long time.”

That does it for Eddie, and for Seamus himself a little bit. The other boy can’t keep whatever happiness he’d trapped in his body inside any longer, and he squirms and hums into the side of Seamus’ neck, giggling “Seamus!” in tight little patches, and Seamus lets him. He calms down eventually, but not before giggling happily again as Seamus gives his hands another squeeze, his own version of whatever Eddie had just done.

And then there’s silence again, but this one isn’t weighted. It’s clear, like an open sky. Like every obstruction has been cleared away and there’s no need for further comment. It’s Seamus’ favorite silence of all and he basks in it.

For all of the three seconds Eddie allows him, anyway.

“I wanted to kiss you so bad yesterday.” He says, voice light and warm.

Seamus ponders this. Pretends like it doesn’t strike a bolt of adrenaline right through the middle of him. He thinks, and says,

“I wanted to rip that undead’s brain straight out of its skull today.” A pause. Is there a line to cross confession-wise tonight? He decides to find out. “I’m never letting anything try take you away from me again.”

There’s a snort in his ear then. “Okay, James.”

“Oh, shut the hell up.” 

Eddie keens at this, squeezing him tightly into another hug. Which is another thing Seamus has never been too fond of, but isn’t all that bad when Eddie’s behind it.

(He can’t believe there was ever a time he thought he could just will himself not to love this boy. Like he hadn’t already fallen fifty times over, like there was ever a chance of him going back.)

“We wasted so much time, Seamus, I think. Not saying anything.”

“So much wasted time.”

Eddie turns to sink his nose into Seamus’ neck, and the motion makes his pulse jump. These touches aren’t idle, aren’t there just because someone needs to be held by something. Finally, finally there’s meaning in being held by him. The validation burns hot and Seamus is breathing it instead of air.

He turns, nudging the other boy to look up at him because he’s never more enjoyed being held in his life, but there’s been need and regret burning under him for at least a day, but for so much longer really, and when Eddie’s eyes meet his, fire surges under his skin.

He kisses Eddie needily. He kisses him with fervor, with want. He kisses him to make up for yesterday in the rain and the emptiness that had filled him. He kisses him for today, when all he’d wanted was to be as close to him as humanly possible. He kisses him for the day last fall when he’d looked at Eddie and felt a strange twinge in his chest, a feeling he didn’t know how to name, and gradually refused to over time. 

The heat, the closeness of skin and the way he can feel the boy’s eyelash twitch on his cheek a second later, makes up for everything.

And Eddie kisses him back, too. Turns to mold towards him so he can run warm hands over his cheek and through his hair, so he can angle them together like puzzle pieces. He kisses just about as Seamus expected him to, with fervor, with passion, greedily and not without grinning into his mouth a few seconds in.

If it’s not perfect, and Seamus is sure it probably isn’t, neither boy notices.

“I bet your sheets smelled really good.” Eddie whispers into his cheek as he pulls away for breath. Seamus scoffs.

“You’d improve them exponentially.” He pauses. “After a shower at least.”

Eddie laughs, breathy little gasps against the shell of his ear. “I have been waiting so long for you to make jabs at how much you like me.” He rocks them together, ever in motion, and Seamus lets himself get swayed back and forth. It’s nice.

“Not as long as I’ve wanted to make them, I bet.” He says.

 

They stay like that for quite some time, eventually easing their bodies to the floor and finding warmth in intertwined fingers and legs tangled together. For some time they only just trade words and kisses, little breaths of laughter spared in between. It’s only by the misfortune of it being the end of the world and the moon reaching its zenith that separates them from each other. 

Seamus rubs idly at his eyes as he realizes he could be perfectly content with falling asleep on Eddie’s shoulder and letting the undead outside do as they please. Maybe. Maybe if he hadn’t let his guard down once today and had it almost be the worst decision he’d ever made, he might even give in.

Instead he lets Eddie fall into a warm sleep beside him while Seamus replays the events that just took place over and over again in his head until he’s sure they’ll stick forever.

A couple of hours after that though, as his eyelids begin to droop and his head grows heavy, he turns to his side and wakes Eddie up by nudging him softly, kissing the side of his mouth until he stirs. 

He’s been waiting a long time to do that too.


	3. part 3 (finale)

Just. Just once, okay, Seamus would like to have the privilege of waking up peacefully. Had he known two years ago that pretty much every day of his marked life would soon begin with rough shoves or alarmed shouts or, on more than one occasion, a knee in his gut from a frantically kicking Latino boy bringing him back to attention after nodding off for twelve seconds out of the fifteen hours he’d been awake,

Suffice it to say, Seamus might have made it a point to enjoy waking up in the mornings, not by the toe of Jordan’s sneaker digging into his side and a sleepy, albeit upbeat voice telling him, “Come on, Seamus. Up and at ‘em.”

_Screw up and at em,_ he thinks. _I wanna stay down and away from ‘em for once._

He turns away from the intrusive shoe, trying to bury his face into the crook of his arm. But sunlight is beaming in and as he leans away from Jordan white light pushes at his eyelids and damn it, okay, okay! He’s awake. Let him live, please.

“Ugh.” He vocalizes a second later, stretching and popping his sore bones. One might think that it would get easier, sleeping on old carpets and inhaling dust bunnies for hours on end after doing it for so long. But if that’s something that happens to people, Seamus hasn’t had it happen to him yet. 

One day though. Fingers crossed.

“I don’t wanna be up and at em.” He mimics his thoughts to Jordan a second later as he rubs the sleep from his eyes and kicks out of his sleeping bag. “I wanna stay down and…” His dry words are interrupted by a yawn, effectively losing their punch. This day could not start off rougher, could it. “Away from them.”

Jordan spares him a pity chuckle, which is more than Seamus had expected, so he accepts it with a shrug.

“Well I’m sorry to say, Seamus, but I don’t think that’s happening today.”

“Of course it’s not.”

Jordan looks down at him from where he’d been surveying the skyline, eyes squinted against the morning sun. He’s in a good mood, which is less unusual for him than the others, but still sort of a strange sight to see this early in the morning.

“So, did you get enough rest? Are you good to drive today?” he asks, head tilting slowly. His tone is tight, like all the times he’d asked Aleks, so, how are you feeling today, does your leg hurt?

Ever so gently testing the waters to see if there’s another delay in store for them, already calculating for misfires. Jordan’s a lot of things, and Seamus can’t really say a good leader isn’t one of them.

And at least Seamus can give him good news. Although four or five hours of on-and-off rest isn’t exactly the clinical term for a good night’s sleep, it’s better than any kind Seamus has had in the past two weeks, and he’s sure (he hopes,) once he shoves off the morning grogginess, he’ll have more energy thrumming under his skin than he has for a while.

“Yeah. I think I’m about as well rested as I’m gonna be.”

Jordan visibly relaxes. Tense shoulders go slack and an easy smile spreads across his face. “That’s good. I’m glad.”

Inside, Seamus’ mind whirs as it climbs out of sleep. He is in a good mood, despite the rude awakening. It’s more than just the sleep. It’s more than the fact that they’re leaving. Its like leftover traces of fire are dancing under his skin but he can’t remember what caused the spark.

“I asked Eddie to wake you up a little while ago,” Jordan says, “But he vouched for you to get a little more rest. Sorry I couldn’t let you sleep in longer, but we really need to get on the road.”

Eddie. Bingo.

All at once the previous day’s events flood him, starting with the morning’s heated resignation to never feel anything for the boy, pausing in the middle to twist his stomach in fear at the memory of how close he’d come to losing him, and then finally the most recent memories, still as warm and real as they’d been the night before, bubbling to the surface and begging his lips to smile. 

It’s a lot to take in through the span of seconds, and even more so when he sees Jordan’s eyebrows knit together after a few motionless moments of silence.

“Oh.” Seamus coughs, breaking himself out of reverie. “Right. We should do that. Get going.”

Jordan gives him one more look, a long one with more than a little confusion hovering over his eyes, but he says nothing, only beckons towards the stairs.

“Yeah.” He says. “We should get down to the parking lot so I can give you the run down.”

Seamus rubs again at his eyes, working hard to make it look like this isn’t the first day of his new life. He wonders just how uncouth it would be to blurt out “Eddie and I made out for a solid hour last night and he told me in Spanish that the universe is a master craftsman for building me like it did and it was awesome.”

Probably more than a little.

Instead he waves Jordan off, promising he’ll be down in a second. After that he stands up on sleep-heavy legs and stretches until his bones and joints are finished popping. He rolls up his sleeping bag, (Eddie’s is already gone, he notes.) and sinks his arms into the sleeves of the hoodie he’s been wearing for well over six months. He fishes an elastic band out of the front left pocket and quickly pulls his hair back from his shoulders, securing it into a tight ponytail. His glasses are in the other pocket and he puts them on as well, using the sleeve of his hoodie, by no means any definition of clean, to wipe off the lenses, and then he turns to face the downstairs.

He’s sleep deprived. Achy. Thirsty as hell and even more hungry. But the weight that’s been balanced on his shoulders for so long is gone, and there’s someone waiting for him down there that he’s been wanting to have there for a long, long time. Everything else is just sort of taking a back seat to that.

 

The second floor is a ghost town. Empty, save for a few pieces of broken drywall and some popped fluorescent lights. The nest of blankets that Aleks had been swathed in is gone, with only a few rusty brown stains near the emergency exit to imply that anyone had ever been there at all. Seamus spares it little mind as he moves on.

And comparatively, the bottom floor is a tiny hive of activity. Packed bags being lined up beside the door, conversation flowing, cans of food being handed around and a water bottle by the side of the double doors that’s clearly meant to be shared by all. Seamus heads for that first, his tongue is heavy and sandy in his mouth and he needs that swig, but not halfway across the lobby his footsteps slow and his heart-rate doubles.

Aleks and Eddie are perched on one of the windowsills, chatting listlessly. Aleks is smiling, laughing about something and Eddie is grinning widely, looking mighty amused with himself. Sun washes over them and bathes them in early morning light and Seamus watches, warmth stirring under his skin and fingers twitching, as Eddie comes to see him.

The smile that had been on the boy’s face ten seconds before falters, drops and reforms itself when Eddie’s eyes meet Seamus’. His eyes get bright and his lips quirk into a warm, familiar hello. His entire being is beaming, from the dopey-cheerful grin on his face to the quickness with which he angles away from his friend, moving towards where Seamus stands.

Did he have a moment this morning as well? Where the cloud of sleep faded and memories slowly tricked in, until the reality pieced itself together and presented itself like a gift? Seamus wishes he could have been there to see that light turn on behind Eddie’s eyes. To see that memory come alive and burn through him, and even to experience the sure-to-come squeal of joy and hug that would no doubt ensue.

Next time, though, Seamus thinks. He still can’t believe it happened between them at all, he’s sure there will be plenty more mornings to watch the realization bloom through his grin.

Eddie’s halfway to him when Seamus hears his name being called from the door and turns to see Jordan waiting for him. He turns, a frown tugging his bottom lip as he sees Eddie’s pace fall, and huffs a deep sigh. He lifts a hand in hello and gives him a nod, an understanding “Damn it,” kind of motion that Eddie copies a second later. Seamus makes for the door while Eddie redirects himself back to Aleks, and the door bangs shut behind him as he heads for the cars.

It’s okay, he tells himself. They’ll have plenty more opportunities for this later on.

 

The two cars are parked and pointed towards the driveway out; Jordan and Dan have been busy. The Toyota’s locked up, Seamus can see fat bags wedged into the back, but the blue car’s trunk is still popped, with only a lone gas canister taking up the space. Jordan’s hovering over it when Seamus reaches him, and he watches as a first-aid kit gets secured in the tight netting that’s ties over the trunk. Precious cargo.

“Alright, I’m here.” Seamus says when Jordan doesn’t look up from his work. His tone comes out a little sharper than he’d intended, probably because he’s still thirsty and still wants to pick Eddie up and spin him in a circle and do a bunch of other really stupid, foolhardy couple-y bullshit things to him right now. But instead he’s here, taking note of the sweat stains under Jordan’s arms. He huffs.

“Good, good.” Jordan says, standing up straight and wiping imaginary dust off his hands. “Once we get this car packed up we’ll be on the road, but I don’t know how secure this trunk is so I want to make sure nothing jostles too much. You’ll be driving this one, Seamus.”

“Oh, nice. I get the one that’s probably not secure and also carrying medical supplies. Awesome.”

“I didn’t say ‘Probably’ not secure.” Jordan teases. “Just… possibly. Either way, you shouldn’t have anything to worry about. We picked you to drive for a reason. You should be flattered that we’re so confident in your abilities.”

“I should be asleep, honestly.”

“There’ll be plenty of time for that when we get to California and meet up with the others.” Jordan says, rounding the front of the car. Seamus follows him. “Sleep as far as the eye can see.”

_That’s not that far, though._ Seamus thinks, but Jordan’s already moved on.

“It’ll be you, James and Aleks for today.” He says, opening the driver’s side door. “Dan and I will be leading the way, so really all you have to do is keep up, which shouldn’t be a problem. We’ll keep an eye out for you, and if there’s any trouble all you need to do is pull over. I’d say beep, but,”

“What, uh, what car will Eddie be in?” Seamus says, the words feeling like a dry, involuntary cough crawling out of his throat. He doesn’t want to ask him, he doesn’t want to betray at all that the prospect of being separated from him all day makes his stomach roll and drop, but he does a shit job of handling it. 

At least Jordan is used to people interrupting him, and it’s not like he hasn’t been giving this speech since noon yesterday. He only frowns for a short second before confirming Seamus’ thoughts. “He’ll be with me and Dan. You know, to keep things from being overcrowded.”

They’ve been hashing out these talks since yesterday, so Seamus can’t even make himself think, let alone say, that having Eddie as well as the others in his car wouldn’t be that much of a hassle. As well as their belongings being equally divided between the cars, so are the passengers. One wrong move, one misstep, and one lost car is the possible loss of three of their comrades. Packing more people into one only worsens the odds, if something bad is to happen.

But I want. I won’t be able to see him all day.

It sounds downright whiny when Seamus thinks this, which is why he shoves it down in favor of listening to Jordan as he explains how to jumpstart the car, as well as how to turn it off at a moment’s notice. He pays as much attention as he can, but the nagging is still there in his mind.

When Jordan looks up again Seamus is staring down at him, less attention focused on the places his fingers had been alluding to and more on the air around him, expression taut. More than usual, at least.

“Is there a problem or something?” Jordan asks, voice taking on that responsible, leader-y tinge again. But Seamus shakes his head. Nah. None that he’ll be sharing with the class. “Is it Aleks’ leg? Because it’s clean, I swear. It doesn’t smell at all anymore.”

At this Seamus lets a tight laugh go, still shaking his head. Nope, that’s not it.

It had come up last night, what they would tell the others. Neither Eddie nor Seamus had been opposed to sharing, which had surprised them both. It wasn’t like the others were cruel or bigoted. It wasn’t like they would kick them out if they were open with things. There would be teasing aplenty of course, but that was to be expected with literally anything they did. Jordan set traps for them and caught them food and the others still teased him for being a wild boy, even in the heart of the apocalypse.

So… why not tell them? They’d decided. They wouldn’t drop it like a drama-bomb or anything. There’d be no family council, no heartfelt declarations of feelings or dares issued to anyone not to accept them. Just… if it came up in conversation, they’d let it out. Weather’s warm, sky is clear, me and Eddie are more than friends and he’s so much more important to me than I’ve ever been wiling to admit.

You know, the usual.

The thing is, this isn’t even casual conversation, and still Seamus can feel the words bubbling on his lips. He wants to tell him. He wants the world to know. Maybe keeping the words in a locked box in his chest for months on end was a bad idea or something, because now he wants to wear it on a t-shirt.

Seamus exhales, long and slow. This wasn’t how he’d seen this going, but he can’t think of another way. His hands bury themselves in his hoodie pockets as he shrugs.

“I just…I don’t know if Eddie would want us separated, that’s all.”

Still, it’s easier to add a little lie to help the words along. Not that Eddie wouldn’t want them separated, but Seamus isn’t used to admitting the same is true for him. One day.

Still, when the words are out of his mouth he wants nothing more than to grab them, shove them back in and swallow them down hard. Too fast, too soon. Three seconds ago he wanted the world to know? Now he kind of wishes a rock would hit him upside the head and even he wouldn’t remember.

Jordan cocks his head, and if the internal panic is reading at all on Seamus’ face he doesn’t acknowledge it. “What, why not?”

Instantly Seamus can feel his shoulders sagging, he can taste the lie forming in his mouth about how, after yesterday, you know, it’s just kind of,

“We. We’re uh. We’ve been talking and uh,”

Those are not the words he’d been planning on saying, and if anything the way he can hardly hear himself saying them over the rush of blood in his ears exemplifies this. All the while Jordan’s just staring, and over the course of Seamus’ halfhearted babbling a wry smile finds his lips. Jordan hangs his head and props himself up on the side of the car. Seamus’ words run dry shortly after.

“So you two finally took the plunge, huh?”

The knot bouncing around in Seamus’ stomach settles into a heavy weight.   
“Took uh. Took the plunge?”

Jordan pulls the kind of face only Jordan can, two parts condescending and one part amused, but not enough to make Seamus feel foolish, only more confused.

“Seamus. Come on.” He scoffs. “It’s not like you guys were making it much of a secret.”

“Making _what_ much of a secret?” he asks, leaning on the car himself, as this is the first he’s heard of this. Because _he’s_ been internalizing this for months and fighting off any external signs, but Jordan seems to be on another planet all together.

Jordan shrugs, laughing dryly and looking away. Seamus pursues this. “Jordan, what are you talking about?”

“I mean,” he raises his hand, trying for a dismissive gesture. Seamus’ crossed arms don’t allow it. “You know. It’s not like you guys have been secretive about it is all. You guys always have your carpet burns, and then there are those weird smiles you give each other. It didn’t take much to figure out there was stuff going on under the surface.” 

A weird cold settles in Seamus’ blood, though it’s neither dread nor fear. It’s a strange, unwelcome sort of twist to his insides that he tries to shake off, but it chases his words as he turns to look back towards the office, and then at Jordan again.

“So you’re saying… something… has been evident for a long time now?”

“Basically, yeah.” Jordan says.

This isn’t a direction Seamus had seen things going. He stands, more than a little shocked, as Jordan looks anywhere but at him. His fingers start to drum on the roof of the car.

“Well that’s. That’s weird, considering we never really talked about it until last night.” 

Jordan points at him, nodding. “Well maybe you two haven’t _talked_ about it, but that didn’t stop anyone else from seeing what was going on. And if no one was clued in when we got here, the ruckus you two made upstairs every night was telling enough.”

_There’s_ the heat of embarrassment. There’s the inability to hold eye-contact. Seamus’ eyes drop to the floor and he breathes a heavy huff, the sweat on his palms making it difficult to keep leaning on the car at all. His stomach is a torrent of amusement and hot embarrassment, and most of this slips through with a hefty, “Oh God.”

“That’s something we would hear a lot, yep.”

“Jordan _oh my god._ ”

“We thought about asking you two to keep it down, but after the first time you kept it down enough to ignore it, so we decided just to leave it be. But honestly, it’s pretty good this happened first, before James could have at you for waking Aleks up again. Haha, oh man,”

“Jordan please stop talking.” Seamus says fast. “Please never ever speak again, actually.”

Jordan puts up his hands, surrendering. “All right, all right. I’m just trying to let you know that it’s not that big a deal, is all.”

Seamus runs a hand through his hair, tightens the end of his ponytail. He works at a glasses lens again with his sweater sleeve and once he’s gone through every menial act he can manage, he looks back up. His face is hot again, but Jordan looks more amused than anything.

“It is a big deal, though.” He says slowly. “For us, I mean. It’s more than just the fucking. It’s more than that.”

Jordan gives him another nod, and a warm hand on his shoulder. “I figured that too, Seamus. We all did. You saved his life yesterday!”

“What, does life-saving immediately mean you’re head over heels now? Because I saved Dan’s life too, and if you can see something going on between us too, well, now would be the time to let me know.”

“Nope.” Jordan says wit a laugh, “Sorry to say it’s mostly between you and Eddie.”

“Nothing to be sorry about there.” Seamus laughs. Jordan grins.

The weird tension slips into something resembling normalcy after that, as he and Jordan both let out watery chuckles. Jordan heads back to the trunk and Seamus keeps in step with him, feeling all kinds of strange and weightless. Jordan points towards the building’s windows and beckons with an arm, and inside muddled shapes start picking up backpacks and heading for the double doors.

“Sorry to say though, there’s nothing much I can do about the car situation. I need Dan next to me to tell me where to go, and unless you want to try separating James and Aleks for the next foreseeable amounts of hours,”

Seamus puts up a hand, resigning himself to his fate. “Fair enough, I guess. Though between you and me, I don’t think Aleks would object to it too much, you know.”

Jordan raises his eyebrows, snorting. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

Speak of the devils themselves, James and Aleks are the first to reach the blue car, each with a backpack slung around their arm. Aleks’ bag is visibly lighter, and when he wobbles once Jordan takes it from him. James is on Aleks’ hip in a second, steadying him out. Aleks then shoots the other boy a glare and James backs off a little, and it looks like harsher words might get exchanged, but not before Jordan is between them. 

“Hey, hey.” He says in a level voice. “Aleks, why don’t you get yourself situated, hm? Yeah, James, you help him.” And then as James tries to open the passenger side door chauffer style Jordan adds with a sigh, “If he needs it, James.”

Seamus’ arms go back to their naturally crossed state and he laughs as soon as the other two are too distracted to hear his lowered voice.

“Well, at least I can say those two didn’t go over my head.”

Jordan perks an eyebrow at him. “That’s not saying much, Seamus.”

“Yeah, I know.”

 

Salvation soon comes in the form of Eddie Cardona about a minute later, once he appears outside the double doors carrying an extra large half empty bottle of Evita. In the heat of the moment Seamus had forgotten the dryness of his mouth (as well as the strength of his knees and what it’s like to have dry palms,) but seeing Eddie and the water makes him remember, hard. And this time there’s no one to stop them when they meet in the middle of the lot. Seamus’ skin is buzzing and he wants to touch him, wrap an arm around his neck, pull him close, lean into the warm skin that had lulled him to sleep last night during his shift.

He takes the water bottle first though, and drinks until his mouth stops feeling like it’s full of sand.

Eddie’s watching him all the while, amused as ever.

“So, how’s it going?” He asks, voice hardly holding back a giggle. 

Seamus shrugs, a smile forming on his own lips. “Oh, you know, okay I guess. The usual. We’re in separate cars today though, that sucks.”

Eddie’s smile drops, but his eyes are still shining. “Yeah, I know. But if it helps, I’ll be staring out the back half the time, trying to distract you.”

“Trying to get me into an accident, huh? That’s not how life insurance scams work you know.”

Eddie laughs. “Seamus! No, I,”

“Hey, Eddie!” Dan calls from the side of the silver car. The boy turns to look and so does Seamus, and now it’s Eddie who is being pulled away for more important business. Well. At least they got to talk for a second.

Seamus walks over with him, but inevitably gets called over by Jordan to help secure the last of their stuff in the blue car’s trunk. It shuts with a definitive thud that gives both boys just enough optimism about how the car will hold up, and then Jordan is saying it’s time for them to get going, if they want to make real progress over the day.

He re-broadcasts this to Dan and Eddie at the other car, as well as James who is hovering outside the blue one. Everyone heads for their respective ride, save for Eddie who makes his way over to where Seamus waits by the trunk. He waits for Jordan to yell at him to go back, but finally, finally they meet no interruption.

Eddie slides into Seamus’ personal space like he belongs there (And who is to say he doesn’t,) reaching out and taking Seamus’ elbows in his hands. Seamus mimics the gesture so they’re holding tight to each other, and none too much room is left between their bodies. It feels strange, doing this anywhere but in the private (though apparently not-so-private) space of the upstairs, but Seamus lets it happen. Lets his body relax as Eddie squeezes his arms.

“Hey, be safe, okay?” He says, voice soft.

Seamus can’t help it. He has a default setting, after all. “Well you know, I _was_ planning on veering off the road into a ditch and taking on six zomb-“

He gets cut off by the gentle pressure of Eddie’s mouth on his. Warm lips on top of his own, beard stubble on his chin and the sensation of Eddie’s breath from where he chokes back a laugh and exhales from where their noses are pressed tight. It takes a moment for Seamus to react, the shock taking him, then a weird giddiness overriding that.

This. This is what he’s wanted since the start of the morning. Even if it was delivered rather rudely.

He angles their mouths together for a second, chasing the heat that had defined the previous night, but Eddie backs off after a second, reminding Seamus that he’d been talking beforehand. Slowly the shock fades away and is replaced by a curt frown, and Eddie keens.

“You have _no idea_ how long I’ve been waiting to do that.”

Seamus stares, gaping. “I,”

“Eddie!”

Jordan’s voice cuts off Seamus’ words (rude,) and in a matter of seconds Eddie’s hands fly to his mouth, giddiness etched into his every motion.

“Don’t freak out too much,” Seamus says quickly, as the boy’s spine straightens and he turns. “I already told Jordan, and he’s pretty okay with it, okay?”

Eddie’s laughing still, hands over his mouth.

“Yeah no shit, that’s what Dan told me this morning. But I can’t believe we just did that!”

“ _’We’_! You just,”

“Get in the car please, you two.” Jordan says from the Toyota, waving a hand through the sunroof to beckon Eddie over. The boy gives Seamus’ arms another squeeze before taking off towards the other vehicle. His joy lasts almost fourteen whole seconds, before being replaced by indignation.

“DAN.” He yelps as he gets to the other car. “I CALLED SHOTGUN.”

 

Seamus spares him a pity wince before turning back to his own car, and the audience he’d forgotten was there. 

Sure enough, James and Aleks are plastered to the car’s rear window, noses and cheeks flat against the glass as they both gape. When Seamus makes eye contact their mouths go wider, spilling out a chorus of “WHAT. WHAT?’s” that follow Seamus until he’s in the driver’s seat.

Their surprise continues well after Seamus starts up the engine, and he’s biting his lip hard when he gives a ‘good to go’ hand wave to Jordan, who is watching him from the other car. Behind him is Eddie, who is keening into hands cupped over his face.

The Toyota pulls out in front of them, and Seamus checks the rearview mirror to find Aleks and James’ eyes big as dinner plates, their “WHAT’S” still ducktailing into one another’s, and Seamus rolls his eyes. He’s smiling.

&

Twenty or so feet outside the building, the little blue car pulls over to the side of the road. The silver car in front of it notices this instantly and cranks it into reverse, speeding backwards, arriving just as Seamus steps out of the car and starts walking back to the office building.

“Seamus!” Jordan shouts, and Eddie all but crawls out the back window in pursuit of him.

“Nope, not doing it.” Seamus says, arms crossed. He’s acting childish, but not by any serious means. Getting up and leaving when things get uncomfortable could be his trademark for as much as he pulls it. 

And in the back of his car, Aleks and James are curled up laughing, loud enough to be heard from the other car even though all the windows are rolled up. “Seamus!” they call out, one after another in between bouts of teasing laughter, “Come back, Seamus!” “Seamus, we need you!”

Jordan pulls a face, frowning hard, but not with any anger behind it.

“Seamus. Get in the car please.”

Luckily for Jordan, Seamus gives up the game quick. He drops his arms in defeat and heads back, banging his fist against the rear window when he passes it. Again, the act is menial and playful, and with more good-will and happiness behind it than most moments they’ve shared over the last month combined. James and Aleks recoil, but they’re still swallowing hard laughs, shoulders shuddering.

“So I guess _most_ of us figured it out.” Dan adds helpfully from the passenger side of the Toyota. Seamus gives him the finger as he gets back in and the engine growls back to life. Jordan gives him one more hard stare and Eddie pushes himself against the window in the back, waving with bright eyes, before Jordan pulls away.

In the aftermath, Aleks and James are silent for a good twenty to thirty seconds, and Seamus is grateful. At least, before James bites out one single last “Oh my god,” and then they’re in hysterics again.

Seamus, too, is trying really hard not to laugh.

&

The day is kind enough to be cool and clear, and the roads are mostly empty, save for the occasional tipped car or stray undead. (“I know how tempting it is,” Jordan had said, “But you could really ruin a car that way if you hit ‘em wrong. It’s better to just let them be.”) That, combined with the incredible miles of nothingness that makes up the place they’re driving through, travel is relatively easy-going. And after weeks of being cooped up and needing to be away from that place, every farmhouse and crumbled storefront that they pass feels like a victory.

James and Aleks get over the morning’s event soon enough, at least before the playful annoyance Seamus spares them deepens into something more real. Every once in a while they’ll break, they have to, there’s literally nothing else to talk about, but after James swears he’s asking about something else and then asks what Eddie’s dick tastes like, and Seamus swerves the car hard enough to whack him into the side door, things die down.

About an hour after that James had declared himself bored and proceeded to lean over the center console and rifle through the stuff in the glovebox while Seamus pretended he was cumbersome. He’d found mostly papers and junk, skipping over any names or faces that might indicate who had owned this car before, but eventually he came up with a dusty old CD booklet filled with bands that none of them had ever heard of. Not that it mattered much to them, music, real arranged music, was something that they no longer had. And so even if the music was a bit too folk-y for their tastes and could use some more bass, just having something playing over the speakers was a comfort they had missed.

And luckily the music does what Seamus could not, puts the others into a silence. For a while they stay quiet, staring out their respective windows with a half-filled water bottle between them, focused on nothing. As time passes though, Seamus documents the weight that takes their eyelids until they’re slumped shapes, drawn into rest by the gentle rattle of the road.

Compared to the alternative, the way things were before, Seamus is pretty satisfied.

The melodic quiet presents Seamus with the ability to think now, something he’d thought he’d been missing for a long time. But the road stretches ever on in front of him and he tries to focus on anything that runs through his head. But he just…can’t.

More than once or twice his mind rolls over the events of the past day. And they excite him, they do, but he can’t make himself focus. He can’t find the will to worry about how foolhardy the arrangement is, and now there’s nothing to occupy his mind the way “I probably shouldn’t feel things for Eddie” used to. It’s a strange detachment, and he’s not sure that he’s too fond of it.

Mostly, he just watches the car in front of them.

For the first few miles Eddie had stood by his words, communicating to Seamus through waves and gestures. He’d thrash around in the back seat while Seamus would nod and gesture back. But it got stale quick, especially when whatever either of them would do would be accompanied by a middle finger from either Dan, Aleks, or James, and the moment would spoil. Now all Seamus can see is the shadow that is the back of Eddie’s head, and he feels a dry sigh build up inside of him.

There, that’s the thing that’s keeping his mind busy today. They finally, finally take the plunge and have to be separated by practicality.

To think, this wasn’t exactly the nightmarish downfall that had Seamus keeping himself emotionally distant from the boy for the past year, but it still doesn’t make it suck any less.

He just. He wants him.

 

Seamus is deep enough in thought that he doesn’t see it at first, the way the car in front of him starts to slow down and sway. And a moment later he thinks that the lights may be flashing, but it’s hard to see in the midday sun.

His eyes do flick up soon though, when he notices the shape in the back of the car has begun to wobble, and he watches as Eddie maneuvers himself upwards towards the sunroof until one hand, two hands, his entire upper torso is outside of the car.

He snorts, there’s not much else he can do, and swerves the blue car to show that this, he sees.

Not that it makes a difference to Eddie either way. The boy currently has two fists in the air and looks like he’s screaming, but Jordan would kill him if he made noises loud enough to alert a herd. Mostly he just looks victorious, a wide grin on his face, at least until he hastily drags one arm down over his eyes and tries to rest on top of the moving vehicle. Jordan’s slowed considerably as Eddie had climbed up, but the car’s speedometer still reads 30, and all Seamus can do is shake his head.

Eventually Eddie pries his arm off of his face and starts gesturing directly to Seamus, who watches with a bemused expression as the boy swings his arms in wide arcs towards the other side of the road. He might be mouthing ‘pull over’ but there’s no way to be sure, so Seamus just swerves to the right anyway, and Eddie gives him a thumbs up. Seamus returns this, sticking his hand out the window with the same gesture, and Eddie waves before working back down into the car’s interior. (Which by the looks of it involves a lot of flailing feet and at least one unpleasant elbow to a certain part of the body.)

Seamus remembers them once saying that walkie-talkies would make for a good method of communication. But why would they want that when instead he could watch Eddie stick half of himself outside a moving car? He pulls up beside the Toyota, which slows to a stop once they’re caught up.

“You could have just pulled over, you know.” He says as Dan rolls down his window. “I would have gotten the message that way.”

“Yeah, but then I wouldn’t have been able to hang out the sun roof.” Eddie chimes in a second later, worming his way between the front seats before thinking better of it and circling back to the window nearest Seamus. He sticks out a hand and with his arms as stretched as it’ll go, he gives the boy’s shoulder a shove. Seamus smirks at him. 

“Fair enough. So, what’s up.”

“Lunch is up.” Dan says, reaching behind him and grabbing a plastic grocery bag tied into a knot at the top. It’s light when he hands it over, there’s not much substance in it and definitely not enough for three people, but Seamus takes it without question. Food abundance is all but a forgotten concept.

“So how’s it going on your end, any problems?” Jordan asks once Seamus plunks the bag on the passenger seat. The other boy shrugs.

“All’s good here,” he says. “These two passed out a while back so it’s been just me and some country CD’s for miles on end.”

“Sounds like a blast.” Dan says.

“Oh, you bet.”

“Well,” Jordan chimes in, “If we keep making good progress we should reach a town before nightfall, I’m sure there’ll be plenty of excitement there.”

Seamus snorts. “When did I say I wanted excitement? I just said I was having a blast in the peace and quiet.”

From the back of the car, Eddie giggles.

“Okay, well.” Jordan says. “Enjoy your lunch and let us know if you’ve got any problems, okay?” 

Seamus gives him a dismissive wave. “Will do, boss.” And then, “Hold on a second, though?”

He reaches down and shifts the car into reverse, inching back a couple of feet until his window is next to Eddie’s. The boy’s perched there waiting for him, one hand pressed against the window that he saw fit to roll back up. Seamus rolls his eyes.

“Roll down the window, dumbass.” 

Eddie obliges.

Then it’s Seamus’ turn to give into his want. He angles his body as far out of the car it’ll go, Eddie taking the hint quickly and doing the same so they meet awkwardly, straining in the middle. Seamus aims for Eddie’s mouth but mostly gets the side of his lip, and when that fails Eddie pulls back, then propels himself forward to plant a much messier kiss on Seamus’ cheek. From the front seat, Jordan groans.

“Could you two be finished?” He asks, bored. “We have a schedule to keep.”

Seamus sees Eddie flip him off from the inside of the car, even as he wriggles away, back to his seat.

“You’re no fun, Hoarden.” Eddie sighs. Jordan doesn’t seem phased by this.

“Well, I’ll see you guys in a few hundred miles.” Seamus says, pretending his skin isn’t warm all over and that his guts aren’t sloshing loose inside of him. Eddie waves, and then the silver car is pulling ahead, away and in front of them. Seamus shifts the car back into gear and continues forward, smiling to himself, fingers drumming on the side of the wheel.

 

The guy on the CD is singing something about Alabama when Seamus hears his name drowsily murmured from the back of the car. He perks up, the warm soup of his brain returning to semi-coherency as Aleks addresses him.

“Well well, good morning, sunshine.” Seamus says as Aleks stretches in his spot behind the passenger seat. He winces a little as he maneuvers his leg into a more comfortable position, but before Seamus can even ask if he’s all right Aleks is waving his concern away. 

“Hmmphm.” Aleks murmurs, adjusting until he’s sitting up. Then, after taking his share from the water bottle beside him, “Hey.”

“You just missed the lunch drop, you hungry?” Seamus asks, pointedly not thinking of the fact that a week ago the boy was actually unwell enough to say no.

But that’s in the past now. That’s over with. It’s done. Seamus tells himself this fastidiously and almost misses Aleks sighing, “I’m always hungry.” This does better to quiet his worries.

Seamus tosses him the bag, confident he’ll only take his share. By now that’s something that’s not even an unspoken rule between their group. It’s more like law.

In the bag are a few small baggies of gas station pretzels, some dried meat (Beef? Possibly. There’s no label and no real guarantee that it’s not dog food.) and fruit snacks that are more sugar than sustenance. It’s by no definition a meal for anyone, but Aleks portions it out for himself all the same, not saying anything. In fact, it’s not until he’s chewed halfway through a stick of ‘jerky’ that he opens his mouth to talk, then closes it.

Uh oh. Seamus knows this game. He keeps his gaze level with the road because he knows more than anything that prodding him about his thoughts would be useless. But just when he’s about to scrounge up something to say to break the silence, Aleks speaks first.

“Hey, Seamus, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” Seamus says. “But if it’s ‘What the fuck’ like it was all morning, know that I _will_ be pulling over and dumping your gimp-ass on the side of the road.”

This gets a laugh out of him, which is disheartening because it was supposed to stand as a valid threat, but Seamus rolls with it. Moreover, he’s surprised not to hear some kind of response from James, who should be poised to threaten his life for even saying that, or calling Aleks a gimp-ass at all. But James is still out cold, head lolling on his shoulder and mouth more than partially open. Aleks fiddles with his hands in his lap.

“So, you and Eddie,”

“Aleks.”

“No, I’m being serious, I swear.”

Seamus readjusts his grip on the steering wheel and sighs. In front of him, Eddie’s vague silhouette is propped against the far door to his left, probably passed out. If anyone, Seamus would have anticipated that it’d be him breaking the news to the other boy. So sitting here watching Aleks shuffle in the rear-view window feels strange. What will this be, some kind of father/date conversation? ‘Don’t worry Mr. Marchant, I’ll have him back by six,’ kind of thing?

Only one way to find out.

“Go ahead.” He says, dryly.

Aleks, for his part, looks every bit as unsure as Seamus feels. He fidgets for a second, staring at the back of the seat in front of him and putting his hands in his lap until finally he admits defeat.

“How did you two, like uh, do it?”

Goddammit Aleks.

“Goddammit, Aleks.”

“No, that’s not what I mean.” The other boy backtracks hard. “I mean, like, you guys have been flirting and stuff for a while now, but what kind of made you, you know, go for it?”

Seamus pauses, this isn’t where he’d thought the conversation was headed at all. He almost wishes that it was just an awkward exchange about how he’ll Treat Aleks’ Friend Well. Instead, he has to swallow hard to get around the weight in his throat and find the words that are proving quite difficult to uproot.

“Uhm, well,” He thinks back to the day before, and the weeks before that. The tightening spiral that was the way they danced around each other, the closing gap between them that they forced themselves to shut. “I don’t know, really.” He says.  
“I mean, I guess some stuff went down yesterday and it was a big eye-opener. With the undead on the road and everything?”

Aleks nods.

“But in the end I think it was just, you know, inevitable.” A giddy tightening in his chest follows the words he speaks. Inevitable. He’ll have to remember to tell Eddie that later, he’ll love it. “We just had to stop tip-toeing around each other and just... Talk about it.”

“How did you do that?” Aleks answers fast. Seamus looks back at him and the boy’s eyes are focused on him, tense. “How did you, I don’t know, approach it?”

Call it fate, or the bump in the road that the car rattles over a second later, but it’s at that moment that James lets out a heady snore, coughing once loudly in his sleep before slumping over again, never once stirring. And just like that, Seamus realizes why Aleks might be asking for tips on hard conversations.

Aleks sees the realization hit his face as well, it’d be hard not to with the way Seamus’ eyes dance over the rear-view mirror, from Aleks’ tense and worried eyes to James beside him and back, and the way his features soften in defeat. Neither of them say it, but Seamus takes an extra moment to think about his next answer.

He almost laughs in defeat next, though.

“Mostly, Eddie made me.” He says. “I didn’t want to talk about it because it scared the living fuck out of me, but he wouldn’t let me shrug it off. I think we both knew it was something we needed to say, we just didn’t know how.”

“So it’s just…” Aleks says, sounding downtrodden. Like he’d thought there’d be some magic answer other than ‘we had to do it and at first it sucked.’ “Making each other talk about it?” 

“Well, there was less on Eddie’s end. But that was mostly because he’s been saying every day for a year, just not verbally.” Another one to tell him later, he’ll lose it. 

“But basically, yeah. I tried to skirt around it, he kept going anyway, and eventually there weren’t any more words to say.” A small laugh goads his lips into a smile, “And it just happened that everything worked out okay.”

Aleks is a defeated man in his silence, nodding after a second and turning his attention to the window beside him. “Cool.” he says in a way that suggests he doesn’t think it’s that cool at all. 

A moment later he adds on “I’m happy for you guys by the way.” in a more coarse tone. Seamus thanks him, but Aleks chooses not to respond.

 

&

It’s a couple more hours before James snorts himself awake, and even then the mood is still tense in the little blue car. Seamus is tetchy, his portion of their rations had been long consumed and the CD had been switched out from one folk album to another, still not to his tastes. The highlight of the past hour was simply Eddie remembering his presence, turning around once to wave from the back window before engaging back into conversation with his own car-mates.

In contrast, the lowlight of the hour for him was probably recently, as James tore into the plastic bag and tipped three of the remaining nine fruit snacks into his hand, downed them, and then handed the rest of the packet next to him where Aleks watched with a cold, dejected gaze.

“No.” he’d said firmly, the same way he’d been for about the past three days, the same for every time James tried to cut his own rations to make up for the week that Aleks couldn’t keep food down. “No, James, just eat it yourself.”

Such had sparked a long and strenuous argument from the back seat, one Seamus has heard about four-hundred times since last week, and also one he refused to be dragged into. James, shaking his shoulder and telling him to chime in with his own thoughts had been the final straw and he’s snapped, telling James to eat his own shitty rations and stop making a big deal out of everything.

And while it’s not strange for Seamus to be blunt or dry, speaking with genuine anger behind his words is more of a rarity, and it showed in how James receded into his seat, eyebrows raised, a thin frown on his lips. He hadn’t eaten but had let the matter die, keeping the bag between them and only taking half, if less than that, from his own share.

The whole time Aleks had looked at him, daggers in his eyes and something held behind his teeth, words not mature enough yet to hit the air. Seamus hadn’t said anything more, just cranked the radio and waited for Eddie to be bored enough to bother with him again.

&

Pink is streaking the sky and the sun is plunging towards the horizon by the time they reach the city Dan had spoken of earlier that afternoon. Long shadows spill over trees and buildings on the outskirts of the town. The wind sending dead leaves skittering over pavement is the only sound in the emptiness. It’s a chillingly empty place, bigger than the town they’d stayed outside of before, with more kicked-out windows and gutted cars, more signs that it had once thrived before it had fallen to ruin.

The silver car pulls over to the side of the road first, and Seamus is glad that this didn’t have to turn into some kind of game of car chicken, the first one to admit the city is too intimidating to enter being declared the loser. Not that Seamus wouldn’t have lost that game anyway; he’s too practical for that, but still.

He pulls up to the silver car and is met with all three of its passengers staring forward, faces set in various stages of duress. Behind him, both James and Aleks have shed the perpetual tension to instead look at the city like it’s the mouth of a monster and they’re pointed towards the fangs.

Seamus is a bit more direct than just tense worry.

“I’m not going in there.” He says over the mumbling engine. “Not while it’s dark out, and not unarmed.”

Behind him the others nod in agreement and he hears Eddie from the back of the other car going “Yeah.”

Jordan runs a hand down the length of his face, looking forlorn. “We were supposed to pass through here an hour ago, there’s nothing but crop fields for miles once you get out of it. We could have switched out and covered so much ground.”

“Great story, sounds like it would have been nice.” Seamus snarks, still adamant. “Too bad we’re still not going through it with the sun down.”

“I know that, Seamus.”

“Alright, well. Just in case you needed a reminder.”

“So what are we gonna do?” Aleks’ voice is terse from the back of the car. Jordan doesn’t stop staring at the outline of the city like it’s just out of his grasp. His frown is set as he shrugs and sighs deep.

“We’ll have to double back for the night.” His voice is that set, leader-y tone that reminds everyone in the vicinity that it was his stealth that saved their asses, his bow that fed them, and his decisions that they’ll follow.

Seamus hates that tone.

So does everyone else, apparently, as eyes roll and scoffs meet cool night air. Aleks rolls his head back so he’s staring at the roof of the car while James tips a head into his hands.

“We just fucking left a hidey-hole.” James says. “I didn’t want to stop for another week.”

“None of us did.” Dan sighs. “But it’ll only be for the night, just until it’s light enough to see our way through.”

“Ugh.” Seems to be the collective response from the group, but it usually is anyway. As they move to turn back, Dan recalling an old farm house that wasn’t too far from where they’d come from that looked stable, a shape moves from the back seat and a grin tests Seamus’ lips for a second.

“Hey!” Eddie announces himself by popping his body between the front seats again, one hand smacking the dashboard to steady himself and twisting until he can see Seamus.

“Hey yourself.” Seamus says back. “I guess I’ll be seeing you sooner than I thought.”

“There you go, Seamus!” Eddie cheers while Jordan tries to dislodge him from the gearshift. “There’s that positive, upbeat attitude I knew you had.” He’s clearly joking. Seamus still chomps at the bait.

Seamus pushes his glasses up with a finger. “Do you want me to get into this? Because I will. I will. First off, the conditions of us meeting will be,”

“We’ll meet you at the house, Seamus!” Jordan says all too fast, and suddenly the silver car is lurching backwards, accommodated by a shout from Eddie. There’s an angry clanging from behind them as Jordan reverses right into a trash can, then swerves and straightens himself out. Seamus rolls his eyes.

He waits for more from the peanut gallery, another jab or taunt at his relationship or something, but James and Aleks are still pouting in the back seat, forlorn like flightless birds.

Seamus says nothing to this, swallowing any distain that comes from holing up for one more night after two weeks of the same, and instead turns around, narrowly avoiding the trash Jordan had spilled over the road.

&

The farmhouse is an old one, rickety and mold-ridden, with crumbled wooden stairs and a doorframe with a lock that’s more of a formality than anything that offers protection. It’s long abandoned if the layer of dust coating everything around them is to go by, and all around it is long, equally unkempt grass that brushes against their knees as they traipse inside.

Seamus doesn’t get six steps out of the car of course, before there’s a joyful squeal behind him and warm hands clenching around his belly, squeezing hard.

“Hey, hey!” he coughs adamantly as his stomach tenses in protest. Not that Eddie seems to care, with how busy he is yanking the shorter boy closer, nuzzling the skin next to his ponytail and declaring warmly, “I missed you!”

“Yeah, and I missed you up until about tens seconds before you did that.”

There’s a light giggle, then Eddie releases him and they walk towards the house. Or get a few feet closer at least, until there’s a commotion at the blue car. Aleks’ voice is sharp as he raises it to contrast James’, which is tense and angry, but not yet at a shout.

“No, this is _bullshit_!” He hisses. “And no, _once again,_ I don’t need your help. I can walk on my own.”

“But.” James says, slicing the syllable short, probably meaning to give more of an argument, but Aleks is already stomping away from him, gait wavering on whenever he puts pressure on the sore leg.

“Aleksandr.” Seamus can just hear James hiss as he catches up with the boy. In one practiced swoop he has an arm under the other boy’s armpit and is acting as his second leg, even as Aleks struggles against him. “Just walk with me to the fucking. House.”

Aleks offers up further protest, but he makes more headway with James next to him, and resigns himself just to look sour as he does so.

“Trouble in paradise.” Seamus sighs as Eddie watches on beside him. He looks worried, a light frown just visible over the fading sunlight. Of course. That’s Eddie’s closest friend. He’s hardly found their squabbles funny this past week alone, and what Seamus dismisses as minor annoyances must be starting to weigh in on him.

“Has he said anything to you?” Seamus asks a second later, nudging Eddie’s shoulder. “Because he looked like he was ready to kill James a couple times earlier in the car. And not the usual way.”

Eddie takes another step towards the house, voice heavy with worry. “Only that he’s getting real sick of James’ ‘helping’.” He makes air quotes with his fingers.

“And that he’s not gonna put up with it for much longer.”

 

Not much can be said for the interior of the house. It’s old, with mildew-scented furniture and cabinets stripped bare of any helpful bounty. There’s no sign of life in it anywhere, as well as nothing to suggest anything particularly brutal went down in it. It’s just an abandoned old house, a one-night pit stop on their journey. None of them are too fond of it.

All the same they sweep it twice for any signs of danger, and then a third time for supplies. A few cans of beets, a clean blanket to spread out on the old wooden floor and some lengths of rope are all they can come up with, and the mood is sour as the group converges in the living room. 

“Can we light a fire in the fireplace, Jordan?” Dan asks, plopping down to the right of to the old stone fixture. “I’ve got matches.”

He pushes a dusty old hunk of wood around in circles, but Jordan shakes his head.

“Too much smoke, sorry.” He pops a flashlight in among the old coals and flicks it on. “There. That’s just as good.”

From his place on the floor a few feet away Eddie laughs, then tugs his threadbare sweater tighter over his frame, a motion Seamus doesn’t miss. The day’s weather is still as choosy as ever, and tonight the air is sharp and cool and the busted windows offer little protection from the gusts. Carefully, carefully he inches closer, until they’re pressed up against each other. 

It feels strange of course, to be doing this when Dan and Jordan are feet away, and able to see them the second they look up. But Eddie needs the warmth, and this is how it is now, right? He hasn’t danced around this desire for months only to turn it down when the opportunity presents itself.

And true to form, as soon as Eddie notices how close Seamus is he takes the bait, slinging an arm around his shoulders and bringing him in closer. “I missed you today.” He says, just loud enough so Seamus can hear. “I’ll miss you tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a plan. Not one I want to stick to, though.”

“Me neither.” The palm on his shoulder squeezes. They don’t see Jordan’s “gag me” motion a few feet away which is probably better for everyone.

It’s then that James walks in, and at first the sight of seeing him alone almost makes Seamus’ stomach snap off into the rest of his organs, but Aleks appears in the doorway a second later, leaning heavily on his side.

“Look what we found.” He announces proudly, striding in.

“I hope it’s more preserved beets.” Seamus pipes up, even as Aleks makes his way in, aligning each of his steps with a long polished wooden cane. He nods as he makes his way into the threshold of the room, then plops down on the couch.

“Not exactly.” He announces. The cane taps on the ground slowly in a tight rhythm. “You were close though, Seamus.” He says, pointing with its rubber end.

“We figure,” James starts out, looking almost in good spirits as he begins to talk. Aleks cuts him off though, and in a matter of nanoseconds the smile on his face breaks.

“ _I_ figure,” Aleks says, “That this’ll help out a lot with walking and stuff. Now I don’t need an assistant for everything, I can just cane it. It’ll be like House.”

“I don’t think cane-ing it is a verb, Aleks.”

“It’s the apocalypse, Jordan.”

“I’m just saying.”

“Wanna find out if I can _cane_ this up you?”

“Aleks!”

The other two eventually settle in as well, crashing on the couch for a while before the smell of dust and mold that comes with every creak is too strong. Then they resign themselves to sitting near the fireplace beside Dan. From there on it turns into Business As Usual, as it has every night for the past two weeks. 

Dan breaks out a map to show them how much ground they’d covered over the course of the day. It’s not interesting but it’s something to tell them they’ve made progress, so it’s good enough. Meanwhile, Jordan rummages around in their bags until he comes up with a can and a spoon and a can opener. When he asks who is ready for dinner, Dan could be in the middle of describing administering the undead cure to save the world and the others would still lose all threads of concentration as the smell of canned meat and pasta hits the open air.

 

Two bites each and pass, it’s a system they’ve had as long as they’ve had need for it. This usually gets whatever can or bowl they’re sharing around the group at least once. Jordan takes the ceremonial first bites while the others watch on with vulture-eyes. Seamus’ stomach is concave and his fingers twitch idly as the can moves down the semicircle, to Eddie next.

One bite, Dan asks to borrow some of the CD’s for their car tomorrow. Two bites, Seamus says sure, just remind him in the morning. The can is passed to him next.

One bite, and Eddie says he’ll be miserable if he has to listen to country music al day tomorrow. The sauce is watery and familiar and Seamus’ stomach growls for more. Two bites, and Jordan is telling him to suck it up. Seamus passes the can to Aleks, gut hardy stated.

One bite, and Aleks assures his friend there are some tracks on the second CD that he’ll like. Two bites, Eddie thanks him. Aleks passes the can to James.

One bite, Jordan says something about gas mileage and where they’ll stop tomorrow, but not for long. Eddie’s nearly buried himself into Seamus’ side and is saying something along the lines of “I’ll go with Seamus,” when James doesn’t take his second bite, and instead redirects the can back to Aleks.

Seamus sighs and droops his head. Again. Fantastic.

Except this time Aleks doesn’t stare at him. Doesn’t give his head a soft shake or shrug off the motion. He stares at James in the dim light that the flashlight supplies, and his voice is serrated when he barks, “Will you fucking stop?”

“Aleks,” James’ response is prepared in advance but he doesn’t make it another word. Aleks shoves the can of food back towards James’ chest and carries on.

“I’m fucking serious dude, I’m done with this. And you are too. Eat your own fucking food.”

The room doesn’t move. No one says a thing.

“You didn’t eat for a week Aleks, you need,” James’ tone is dismissive, like he’s talking down to a disobedient child. Seamus watches Aleks register this, sees the fire blaze to life in his eyes.

“I get it James, we all do.” He snaps. “I was sick. But I’m not anymore and I’m _done_ with you babying me because of it.”

Slowly, James turns to face him. Already his posture draws tight in itself, defensive. Almost like he can guess the words that Aleks will speak next as he stares him down, unwavering in front of the others. This argument isn’t young, and he’s prepared for the worst.

“You feel bad because you think it’s your fault that I got hurt. Now you’re making all these bullshit sacrifices because of it, like you think it’ll make up for the fact. Fucking. Stop it.”

James’ gaze is steely and his fists are clenched. He doesn’t acknowledge the worried stares being shared around him, doesn’t look away from where Aleks is glaring daggers. Glances shift around them, Seamus shares a long look with Eddie before the both of them look to Jordan, who says nothing. He himself looks a little spooked, but he hasn’t yet tried to break them apart, and so no one else does either.

James’ voice is tight when he speaks next. “That isn’t true.”

“Which part?” Aleks demands. “That you blame yourself, or that you’re being weird around me? Because it doesn’t seem that way to me.”

“It. I.” James draws back in on himself, cornering himself further. Seamus draws in a tight breath; soon he’ll have no more room left to back into. “Let it go, Aleks.”

“No.” Aleks’ response is instant. “I’m done with letting it go. I’m done with putting it off. I’m not gonna take this for the rest of my life or until you feel like you’ve done enough. Tell me you’ll stop.”

In the midst of his words Aleks’ eyes slide ever so slightly to the right, where Seamus is watching him. All over again their conversation in the car washes over him, Seamus’ advice; “ _He kept going, until there weren’t any more words to say._ ”

He hadn’t known exactly what Aleks was planning when he’d asked him, but he’d had a hunch. Now Seamus just kind of wishes that he didn’t have to watch it play out in front of him. It was tough enough to do it just between him and Eddie, he can’t imagine having to do this in front of a crowd.

James is feeling their stares. From his place resting on the ground he draws himself up taller and taller until he’s standing, and Aleks does the same. Their glares are cold and their bodies are tense, and no one’s really ready for the shaky shamble of a confession to fall out of James’ lips next.

“You could have died.”

For every comfort they’d given James, telling him there was nothing he could have done better, praising him for staying by Aleks’ side, hailing him a hero for discovering the antibiotics when Aleks had needed them the most, these are the words that hold the truth as James speaks them. For every assurance they’d given him that he was the good person in all of this, those four words betray him. Betray his thoughts, and the panic that’s driven him for weeks.

It’s what’s everyone’s known. He blames himself.

Aleks holds his ground. Crosses his arms and waits for more. And James gives it to him.

“ _You could have died,_ and I would live the rest of my life remembering the one second I told you that we were gonna sweep the place real quick. And the one time. The one time I didn’t look back to see if you were okay, and now you’re walking with a goddamn cane. Don’t _tell_ me you don’t need help Aleksandr because pretending you don’t isn’t gonna solve anything!”

His voice rises as anger pours out with his words. Seamus feels Eddie’s fingers tighten around his own and he squeezes back, a comfort as Aleks opens his mouth. Usually by now someone would have chimed in, Jordan telling them to knock it off, Eddie taking Aleks’ side and backing him up. 

But this argument is different from all their other ones. This one needs to happen just between the two of them.

“I don’t need the help you’re giving me!” Aleks snarls. “I don’t need to be treated like a baby, or like I’ll die if someone looks at me wrong. Yeah, it was nice, having you around when I needed you back then, but I don’t need it anymore. Now I don’t even like being around you, and you’re here all the fucking time.”

He crosses his arms and holds his posture straight, it even looks like he’s putting equal weight on both legs. James’ eyes flick down for a second to look at it, and as they do Aleks speaks again.

“No one blames you. I don’t blame you. I miss hanging around with you like we used to, before everything you did was because you felt sorry for me. I just want you to stop the babying bullshit and be _normal_ again. And if you can’t do that, then just leave me alone.”

At some point during Aleks’ tirade James’ eyes had dropped to the floor, unable to look his friend in the eye. No one says a thing in the aftermath, as Aleks swerves backwards and grabs a hold of his cane, tossing behind him, “I have to pee.” And then stalking out towards the fields.

James stands unmoving. No one says anything around him. The can of food lies forgotten in the space between James and where Aleks was.

Jordan speaks. 

“Eddie.”

“Yeah.” Eddie perks up instantly.

“Go keep an eye on him, okay? It’s still the apocalypse and he can’t run. Don’t let him know you’re there.”

Eddie nods quickly, getting to his feet and moving in the path Aleks had taken. James watches with his mouth set in a frown.

“So the rest of you do that and it’s fine, but I,”

“You take it too far.” Seamus says. The words feel like stones in his throat. But James listens when he talks, and no one else will say it, barring Aleks himself.

“We all keep an eye out for him because we’re worried, but he’s right. You’re treating him like grandma’s china, not a person. If I tried to be like that around Eddie after yesterday, he would probably kill me.”

James crosses his arms. He looks equal parts defensive and defeated, speechless mostly.

“He needs someone to look out for him. He needs to eat more. He _needs-_ ”

“That’s what the group is for.” Jordan pipes up. “We all worked to keep him alive after the accident, that’s what we do. And you did the most and he appreciates that. But you,” James looks up, fire in his eyes and waiting to be called out again. 

Dan picks up there, hesitant. “You stayed by his side for comfort. And that’s all he wanted. All he expected of you. He’s mad because you’re not that anymore.”

“Just. Give him space to breathe again.” Seamus adds.

Slowly, James moves back into a sitting position. More than once he shakes his head and opens his mouth, but the words don’t come. Seamus gives him a sympathetic wince. They never do when you want them to.

He sounds broken when he finally speaks in a rush of dry words.

“If he doesn’t want to be around me, Jordan, me and Eddie can switch cars. Then he and Seamus can, you know,”

“Is that really what you got from that conversation?” Aleks’ voices comes from the door that leads to the kitchen area. Seamus jumps, James jumps. Aleks and Eddie appear in the doorway, Eddie grinning with a wince.

“I tried to stay hidden but,”

“But you sent Eddie to try and be quiet and sneaky on his own.” Aleks says dryly as he hobbles back into the room. Eddie quietly laughs behind him.

“Not my best thought process.” Jordan admits with a sigh.

Aleks moves in with slow strides, balancing hard on his can until he can look down where James eyes him. They’re both wearing familiar scowls but the anger’s left the room, and what’s there now Seamus can’t put a name to. Maybe the blind terror of a tentative fix to a longtime problem.

“I didn’t say all that to you because I thought you’d give up and just like, leave,” Aleks says with a dry laugh. “That was the part where you were supposed to go, ‘Okay Aleks I’ll reign it in, please stop making our friends uncomfortable with your yelling.’”

James looks up at him. He gives him a long level stare and then turns away, staring at the floor under him. And then, “That’s a terrible impression of me.”

“James.”

“Look, it’s not that easy, alright?” James says, voice tinged desperate. “I can’t just… not give a shit anymore. Not after I thought you were a gonner, not after you actually came back.”

Aleks adjusts, putting more weight on his cane.

“Well you’re gonna have to learn to.” He states. James looks him up and down then rolls his eyes. 

“Your leg is shaking, sit the fuck down.”

“ _James._ ”

“I’ll try, okay!” He throws his hands up, looking at Aleks like a broken man. “But you can’t keep acting like you don’t need extra help, either! There’s gotta be a balance in there somewhere.”

Aleks caves a second later, legs wobbling as he shuffles down into a sitting position. He stretches his wounded one out in front of him and winces as he runs fingers over where the scar is under his jeans. He speaks carefully.

“Yeah, I get that. But this whole like, eating less so I get more stuff, or holding doors open for me, or looking like you’re gonna kick someone’s ass for messing with me…You’re not my caretaker, dude. And I don’t want you to be.”

James watches him, and Aleks looks back out the corner of his eyes. For a minute the farmhouse is silent save for the sounds of mice darting through the walls, and then James exhales hard. His fist bounces off Aleks’ shoulder with an audible thud and the other boy gasps in protest.

“You had to cause a scene in front of everyone, asshole?” He asks. He’s smiling. Aleks smiles too, though tentatively, and only for a second before frowning again about his arm.

“It worked, didn’t it?” He says. Then he reaches down next to him and grabs the can by his leg, shoving it in James’ direction. 

“Eat your fucking food, asshole.” He says, the smallest shadow of a laugh in his voice. James studies the can in his hand for a long second before he grabs it, stuffing a second spoonful into his mouth. 

He passes it to Dan then and the sigh of relief in the room is audible as everyone lets out the breaths they’d been holding since Aleks had first began shouting.

“So.” Jordan says, grasping something out of his bag and pulling out another can, “Is everyone ready for a second helping?”

&

No one says much after things cool down between Aleks and James. James eats his share without comment the next time food is passed around and Aleks, for all his threats about wanting James to leave him alone, doesn’t leave the other boy’s side. The sun is long-set and eyelids start to grow heavy when Jordan asks through a yawn who will be up for Night Watch.

Seamus isn’t about to volunteer. He’ll be behind a wheel all day tomorrow, and like hell he’s doing it while being even more exhausted. Eddie leans into his side, close enough to prop a head on his shoulder and yawns, making the message loud and clear. They’re out.

“James, Aleks.” Jordan says in a measured tone. “Correct me if I’m wrong but you will be in the back of a car for most of tomorrow you know.”

“And it’s not like they’ve been doing a lot of watches recently anyway.” Eddie adds, to which Seamus snorts “Tactful.”

“I try.” He says.

James and Aleks exchange a glance, but it’s pretty clear that the decision has been made for them. All they have to do is hang their shoulders and nod.

“Sure.” Aleks says, and James tosses in an “All right.”

“Don’t look so upset.” Dan says from the corner of the room. His voice is also heavy with sleep. “I think you two have got a lot to talk about anyway, you know?”

“Yeah.” Jordan says. Then he motions to where Eddie and Seamus are dozing off not far away. “And it worked for them well enough, didn’t it?”

That’s enough to make the other boys’ faces go red and little gasps of outrage to rumble out between them, stifled explanations paired with insults to Jordan and his audacity. They don’t outright say no though, and Seamus laughs. Things aren’t perfect between them yet, they won’t be for a while, but for the first time in a long time it looks like they’re working towards something better.

 

While the others scout out a location with the best vantage point for James and Aleks, Seamus and Eddie go off on their own as well, in search of a secluded and comfortable place to rest. Not that the ancient wooden floor of the living room isn’t any less comfortable than anything else they’ve been sleeping on lately, but it is a house after all, and houses are often a little more forgiving in the comfort aspect. 

Dan and Jordan send them off tauntingly, telling them to have a good night with voices laced in teasing. 

James is a bit more forward as he tells them to keep it the hell down for once.

Eddie cheekily gives him a thumbs up and says he’ll do his best, but no promises. Seamus hits him.

A bit of exploring down a small hallway outside the kitchen eventually leads the pair to back a room with an in-tact ceiling and some mostly unbroken windows. There’s also a shag carpet lining the floor that hasn’t seen a vacuum since it was put down in the 70’s. 

The twin size mattress they came in this room for is sat upon a rusty old bedframe that will not hold their combined weight. It’s also stained and yellowed when they pass a light over it so the boys give it a pass, instead setting up their sleeping bags on the floor. It’s softer and more forgiving than most floors they’ve seen lately anyway, so they take it as a win. Then they try something new as they bunker down, unzipping both of their sleeping bags completely to make two de-facto blankets, one to spread on the floor, and one to share on top of them.

“Our first real couples test.” Seamus says as they tug the length of the “blanket” over both of their bodies. “If you’re a huge blanket hog, we’re over.”

“You won’t have to worry about that.” Eddie yawns a second later, bustling closer and closer until he’s got his arms around Seamus and is clutching him close to his chest. Seamus lets him, enjoying his senses narrowing down only to the simple one-two of Eddie’s heartbeat. “I’m more of a snuggler.”

“Yeah, I picked up on that when you tried to sleep on top of me even when you were in a separate bag.” Seamus says, and Eddie spares him a tired chuckle.

Soft fingers knead the skin on the back of Seamus’ neck as Eddie drifts out of consciousness. And by the time he stops Seamus doesn’t take notice at all because he’s long been asleep as well. 

&

A gunshot. 

Seamus feels Eddie spring into action before his wits even find him. Blindly his palms press against the floor but he can find no grip against the slippery carpet. His eyes strain in the darkness but even if it weren’t pitch black he’d tossed off his glasses before falling asleep and now all his senses are whirring and he can’t right himself at all.

Arms find him though, one links around his own flailing limb while another one hoists him to his feet and Eddie’s voice is panicked in the darkness “Shit’s happening, Seamus. Something’s going on.”

Seamus’ hiss of “No shit,” is swallowed by a loud yelp from the other side of the door. Faintly he can hear James’ voice from the other end of the house, raised in alarm. Dan’s voice is closer, though.

“Seamus, Eddie, get out here!” And then there’s a heavy thud that makes Seamus’ guts pool at the bottom of his belly. Dan’s voice comes again, this time more panicked. “Guys! Get out of there!”

He whips his head around blindly feeling for his knife, his glasses, anything that makes him less of a vulnerable sack of meat in this moment. There are groans and hisses and all kinds of terrible sounds coming out of the other side of the door and Seamus has never felt so blind. Where was the night watch? How much danger are they in? Fuck, fuck, _fuck._

He finds his knife first, or rather it finds him. He feels the familiar weight of its handle being pressed into his palm along with the push of Eddie’s fingers down his wrist. He grips it tight, maneuvering it into a more formidable position as the scratching sounds on the other side of the door come closer.

“What’s, wh’s, what’s going on?” he babbles, his brain still heavy. His movements are foggy and unsure and his bare feet keep slipping on this _damn carpet_.

Eddie’s reply comes slow, muddled together, like the words took longer than usual to go in his head from Spanish to English. “I dunno, I dunno. All I heard was the gunshot.” 

Which is just. Great. Being cornered isn’t new or too much of a problem. Neither is a gunshot, the unmistakable sound which is their one clear alarm that there’s trouble and a lot of it. But both of these things combined, in the dark when both of them are running at half-capacity max?

“Shit.” Seamus hisses as there’s another call for them from the other side of the door. “Shit shit shit. You good?” 

He can just see a second shape blurring around behind him, and he might be tempted to stab it if he wasn’t completely familiar with its height and stature. He hears the rattling of a belt and the sound of something long and slender sliding against the leather. “Yeah.” Eddie assures him as he readies his knife.

“We’ve gotta get out of here and fast. I’m just gonna throw the door open and we make a break for the living room, alright?”

“Whatever you say, Seamus.”

Seamus’ gut twists in spirals of fear and he wants a lot to turn around and kiss that boy hard just in case, but he doesn’t let himself entertain the thought. The last thing they need is another distraction for when the floodgates open and hell finds them.

Instead he takes a step forward and every curse word he’s learnt since he was a child rushes out of his mouth at once.

“Seamus?” Eddie asks. Seamus leans down and finds his glasses securely under his foot. He’d thought he’d snapped them in two but they’re still in one piece, but the left side where his heel had landed is cracked and splintered all to hell, and when he slides them up his nose they curve weirdly, so only one side is useable.

“ _Fuck._ ” Seamus hisses again for the thousandth time since he’s been startled awake. Then anger and fear and every other emotion pitted under his skin washes through him as his footsteps take him to the old wooden door, and out of his good eye in the dark shadows he can just find the knob. “Get ready.” He growls as he grabs it, then yanks it open.

Instantly he’s hit with a lot of things. The rank smell of so many decaying organisms packed into one tight place. The sounds of snarling and snapping and scraping that comes from dead limbs being snacked on the hard floor. He sees them just barely, a variable wave of undead bodies slouched against the walls and the ground and everywhere his eyes can find movement. 

Seamus sucks in a deep breath, his thoughts a torrent of “What fucking happened here?” 

And then he raises his knife and drops it into the leathery skin of the monster closest, and the battle begins.

 

Jordan will say it’s the activity in an otherwise abandoned area that awoke the masses. James would be quick to point out that they made a huge racket at the city’s edge and left them a clear path to follow. Eddie might argue that it’s just shit luck and shit timing with no clear causation that led to them getting swarmed by more undead than most of them had seen packed into a single space before.

And Seamus?

Seamus doesn’t give a single fuck about what brought them here. All he cares about is swerving out of the way as one lunges for him, and the weighted terror that comes as he backs into another.

His knife lands sloppily into the eye-socket of the beast in front of him and long, pallid fingers find his gut as he twists away. He only has time to open his mouth to shout before the body behind him falls, and then Eddie’s voice is there. 

“Look out!”

As if he weren’t doing that already. Were Seamus not occupied enough as it, he might turn back to say that to him. But Eddie is already pushing his way past, hacking and swinging like an animal, breaking skin where he can and leaving a path of sick, heavy thuds in his wake.

They head for the living room, that’s where Jordan and Dan are. Aleks and James were supposed to be on the front porch, but there’s no telling where they ended up. Once they get to the others Seamus doesn’t know what he’ll do besides keeping swinging, but every moment they move away from the tiny bedroom and closer to the others feels like progress, and he keeps at it.

He’s just dislodging his knife from the jaw of an undead when he sees the first signs of organized movement not from him or Eddie. Dan waves his hatchet in all directions at the end of the hall, sending beasts scattering in all directions. Innards and limbs line the tile floor and Dan doesn’t look up when Seamus shouts his name, only swings again to stop a hulking beast in its tracks.

“Dan! Dan, what’s going on?” Seamus calls out amidst the chaos as he breaks free from the cramped hall and into the kitchen. Dan doesn’t have much time to answer in-between swings but he manages his best.

“Ambush!” He chokes in-between movements. “So many, from the north!”

“Why didn’t James and Aleks tell us?” Seamus barks as his blade matches Eddie’s in a swing that takes down another beast.

“The _north!_ ” Dan says again, like that’s supposed to mean something. “They didn’t see it coming until it was too late and now this place is _filled_. We gotta get out of here, now _move!_ ”

Seamus says nothing more, only swings again, keeping his back to Eddie’s and moving in tight steps around anything with jaws. They make quick progress through the small room and the threshold of the living room is in front of them soon. Dan takes the lead, breaking away from them to cut down two monsters standing in their way. A second later there’s a flash of clean movement, and Jordan’s joined him with a hammer in his hand, one they didn’t have before coming here.

“Move, we gotta go now!” He shouts, and Dan moves faster, clearing the path for the others. He turns to shout into the shadows where Seamus can’t see, “And don’t let any of ‘em get out!”

Seamus doesn’t have time to wonder why before the first sparks of yellow and orange break the monotony of the darkness. It’s then that Seamus’ lungs, filled with the musk of rotted flesh, find the gut-curling scent of gasoline in the air. It’s then that in the newly illuminated room Seamus sees a single gas canister tipped on its side, and James standing above it.

Behind the boy with a handful of matches is Aleks, who leans heavily backwards on to him. He has the long end of his cane pressed to the center of the chest of an undead in front of him, and as the flames in front of James dance to life he pushes backwards so the beast topples. Shortly after, James’ shovel gets picked up off the floor and buried into the monster’s brain.

In the light Seamus can just see the shapes of so many monsters, like rats crammed in a sewer, like insects buried under a log. They squirm and writhe in the light with limbs reaching for warm skin to break. Among them are the others, Dan and Jordan who clear out a path towards the doorway at the other end of the room. James and Aleks, no longer preoccupied with setting the place on fire, busy themselves with the fray as well, hacking and slashing at everything they see. They move in tandem, one’s actions begetting another’s, so that one is always swinging while another one’s guard is down. 

And beside Seamus Eddie is panting, knife raised as he pushes his way through the doorway and into the fresh fray. If they go fast there’s one way they’ll be able to dodge their way through the worst of the gathered, all they have to do is go straightforward.

And that’s when the rest of everything catches on fire.

The gas drips long lines into the blanket spread out on the floor. The couch, long since toppled over in the bloodbath, soaks it up as well. And then the fire finds the curtains, and then the wooden pillars that hold the house up itself.

Seamus watches as the world goes up in flames. The sight is tripled by the splintering in his glasses.

At this point it’s either run through fire, or into the herd.

On the other side of the room Seamus sees the others calling for them, but their faces are soon replaced by flickering heat and black smoke. The fire moves rapid and unforgiving through the thick, attaching itself to the loads of bodies in its wake. 

There’s no way they can make it through safe, not only unburned, but defenseless to anything that attacks them on the way.

Seamus can hear James’ voice calling for him. Aleks is screaming for Eddie, and Jordan and Dan are yelling along as well.

Eddie’s voice raises up over the calamity and Seamus has never been so happy to hear it.

“We’re going out the back!” he screams, and wastes no more time as he grabs Seamus’ shoulder and turns him around.

The kitchen has no other doors, only windows that are high above the stove and unbroken. Seamus heads for them until Eddie’s grip tightens on him and they move together towards the hallway again. “There’s no way we can squeeze through that, come on, come on.”

Eddie is by no definition a leader, or much of a fast thinker in his own right. But right now as he leads Seamus, half blind and fraught with terror, long with him through the monster-coated hallway, Seamus trusts him with his life.

Eddie wheezes as he pushes his way through the hallway, sleeve pressed tight over his mouth where he chokes up black smoke. He’s still swinging his knife around, as is Seamus, who follows him as best he can. 

There’s one broken window at the far end of the small bedroom, big enough for one of them to fit through at a time and high off the ground. As they get securely inside Eddie slams the door closed behind them. Then he moves in front of it, keeping it shut with his body.

“Go.” He coughs, pointing for the window. “Jump out and get to the car, I’ll be right behind you.”

Seamus doesn’t second-guess him or his instructions. Until he does.

Panic driven feet head for the window in a rush but then he pauses. His heart’s in his throat and his pulse racing. The world around them is a writhing, screaming nightmare. His body is a pile of nerves on fire and he’s never been this scared and alive.

This. This is what he’d meant when he’d told himself they were tempting the universe.

He finds Eddie still at the door, panting, and holds him there for a single second. He puts his mouth on the other boy’s and kisses him hard, pushing as close to him as he physically can before breaking away. In the dimness he can’t see Eddie’s face but he does hear the boy scoff, exasperated as there’s a pressure on his chest that comes from the boy’s unoccupied hand.

“Save the sappy shit for later please, now run!”

This time Seamus does as he’s told.

The window wasn’t built to be jumped out of, Seamus learns soon. He yanks the rotted wood frame open and moves to swing one leg out of it, but his leg only reaches about half way down. The long grass sways at least a foot under him and he wavers in the small space, hissing as he tries to vault his body out. He can’t see what’s below him and he wriggles, trying to get some sort of view.

“Seamus!” He hears his name milliseconds before the shadows beside him peel away and a nasty beast, tall and slender, ambles out of the corner of the room. Seamus ducks and curls away from where it grabs at him but one leg kicks at the carpet underneath him while the other waves uselessly outside.

In the next seconds Seamus doesn’t see much, and the only thing he feels is a hard pressure on his side, one that sends him out the window and toppling towards the earth. His body hits first, the force of it driving every ounce of air in his body out of his mouth in a strangled gasp. He struggles to breathe in but it’s hard to think, hard to do anything with the way his head bounces off a cluster of old dried stones beneath him. All at once his vision swims and his mouth tries to form words, but function escapes him, and the last thing he sees is the shape inside of the house falling on the backdrop of the pale blue sky, and then Eddie’s head peeking out the window, screaming… his name?

&

“Seamus? Seamus, wake up.”

There’s an incessant nudging on Seamus’ shoulder that pulls him out of the depths of sleep. The voice next to his ear is raspy and exhausted and as Seamus forces his eyes open he sees Eddie poised next to him, looking terrible.

He comes to his surroundings all too soon, picking up his head off the cold tile floor of the convenience store and wiping at the small puddle of drool that had formed there. He clicks his tongue once, ugh, and works himself into an upright position.

Outside the winds howl and the single surviving streetlight provides just enough orange glow to show that the snow’s still coming down in powdery waves with no signs of letting up soon. Seamus shivers down to his bones. This old hoodie he’d plucked from a store last week comes in handy a lot when he needs to warm up but in the dead of night in winter’s cruelest grasp, it feels like it’s doing next to nothing.

“Are you all good?” Comes Eddie’s voice again, and Seamus turns to it with bleary eyes and a heavy head. This is their third run at Jordan’s “Night Watch” idea and it isn’t any easier than the last two times they’ve done it. The sleep is never deep enough, and waking up has never been so hard.

Seamus pulls his knees to his chest and shivers, wiping sleep out of his eyes.

“Yeah. Go to sleep.” He says through a yawn.

Eddie looks at him with a set frown, cocking an eyebrow.

“Are you sure? Because if both of us fall asleep and then something happens, everyone’s boned. And we won’t be able to be mad at you for it because we’ll all be zombies.”

Seamus takes in Eddie’s face. He’s drained completely, gaunt from lack of food and sleep and everything else a young human needs to survive. Pity wells in the empty space of Seamus stomach and he rubs at his eyes again, willing them to be brighter and more alive.

“Yeah, I’m sure, I’m sure.” He says softly. Truthfully he wants nothing more than to see Eddie get a break, see those tired features relaxed.

“Listen, I know what I’m doing.” He assures him. “Just get some rest, okay? I won’t let anything happen to you. Or us. The group.” His words feel blocky in his mouth. Eddie smiles.

“Thanks, man.” He says through a yawn. And as he curls up tightly into the confines of a ratty old sleeping bag of unknown origin, his hand comes to rest on Seamus’ knee, giving it a tight squeeze.

“Same here, you know?” He says. “I won’t let shit ever happen to you.”

&

Seamus blinks into consciousness in a pink box of a world. The first thing he notices is the soreness in his body. He tries to reach out a hand to touch one of the blurry shapes in front of him and his muscles twinge in protest. He tries to stretch out his legs as they’re pushed almost to his chest, but he can’t get them more than half extended before something blocks them. And as he tries to raise his head to make heads or tails of this blur he’s trapped in, a wave of pain and nausea passes over him and he groans.

His head falls back against something too hard and he hisses, raising a cramped arm to feel at the back of his head. Sure enough, the further up his fingers travel the more and more sore his head gets, until finally he finds a small pool of sticky wetness just beside his ponytail.

“ _What the fuck happened._ ” He thinks to himself. And as though his brain had been waiting for him to answer, the events preceding him pour back into Seamus’ brain and he groans. The farmhouse, the invasion, the fire, all of it plays back over his eyes and that nausea from before is not letting up.

As his thoughts find him, so does his coherence. Slowly he comes to the realization that he’s inside a car, but not the Toyota. He’s cramped into the back seat, and the sky he sees outside is tinged pink and violet with the coming dawn. It’s silent and still, immobile, and the skyline is unfamiliar as ever.

For as much as he looks for it, nothing comes to mind when Seamus tries to think of events after the fall. There’s a warm black haziness mostly, and then waking up here. One thought is incessant though, one problem that doesn’t solve itself and that nags at him as his fingers find the handle to the door.

“Eddie.”

Seamus more or less slip-slides out of the back of the blue car, landing on dew-wet grass with an unceremonious thud. It’s cold, soaking through his hoodie and jeans as he stumbles into a standing position. The grass tickles between his toes and chills him, he’s shivering, and standing up makes his head spin harder than it ever had before. Seamus gets one good look at Eddie turning from where he sits on the hood of the car before the dizziness catches him, and he’s emptying the pitiful contents of his stomach on to the ground.

“Seamus!”

Seamus hacks and gags for a few seconds until his body stops feeling like it’s being rung taut. All too soon there are arms supporting him, holding up as he wavers on shaky knees, pulling the long end of his ponytail away from his mouth as he burps and gags up the last of the bile inside of him. All the way through Eddie’s voice is warm and close to his ears, “I got you, I got you, I got you. You’re okay, Seamus. You’re okay.”

“Am I?” He burps as the sickness fades and he’s left feeling like he’s been hit by a truck, just not a vomit one. He wipes at his mouth and spits a few times in the grass. Eddie holds him close and helps him stand keeping a tight grip on him as he assures the other boy “Yeah, yeah, you’re fine.”

“It’s warm up here, follow me.” Eddie says, and Seamus leans on him as Eddie rounds to the front of the car, scrambling up the engine-heated hood and then keeping an arm out for when Seamus slips up on water-coated jeans up beside him.

The metal underneath him is warm and helps chase away the sudden cold. Eddie also scoots as close as humanly possible, pulling Seamus close to him like Seamus had done the night before.

The night before. How long has it been?

A torrent of questions pass through him then, along with another spell of dizziness that makes his head crash into his palms. Eddie is there then, squeezing his shoulder softly and murmuring softly to him, “It’s okay, it’s okay, I got you.”

“What happened?” Seamus asks as his pulse pounds behind his eyes and his vision blurs.

“The house we were staying at got overrun by undead so we had to go.” Eddie says softly. “You fell and hit your head.”

Seamus rubs the back of his eyes with his palms until the tension eases up a little. He breathes in to steady himself until he doesn’t feel like he’s on the verge of losing it again, and then he leans back. Little thoughts and images from the event play behind his eyes and when he’s able to look up again his gaze turns to Eddie. The boy is watching him with eyes filled to the brim with concern and Seamus almost takes pleasure in how that concern drains with his next words.

“No, I didn’t fall. You pushed me out of a window.”

Eddie grins, as that’s his first response for every time he’s called out, but he at least has the decency to look embarrassed about it. He lets loose a tight giggle before putting a hand up in defense.

“It was the only way to keep you safe, first off.”

“Obviously.” Seamus points to the wound. Eddie winces.

“If I’d have known there was rocks and junk down there…well I probably would have pushed you anyway, Seamus. That thing would have gotten you. I wasn’t gonna let that happen.”

“But a concussion, just fine with you.” Seamus isn’t angry. In pain, yes, but it’s hard to find a counterargument for ‘ _It was to literally save your life.’_

Edie snorts. “If it keeps you around longer, yes.”

Seamus sakes his head, before remembering that that, too, makes him want to yack.

“See now,” He says dryly, “When I saved _your_ life,”

Eddie rocks back on the car, then stops when the motion makes Seamus gag. “I knew you were gonna say that. I just knew it.”

Seamus looks at him, squinting a little to focus. He catches Eddie’s eyebrows jumping on his forehead for a moment before the boy goes digging into the pockets of his hoodie and pulls out a pair of malformed glasses. Seamus’ glasses.

“Here,” he says, sliding them on. The skin around Seamus’ right ear is tender and he hisses as the plastic passes over it, but with the exception of the one eye, having everything slightly more into focus helps.

Seamus looks at Eddie through the glass, first with both eyes then squinting down to only the good one. This makes both of them smile.

“So, where are the others?” Seamus is tentative to ask, but he figures Eddie wouldn’t be his usual giddy self if things were this bad. And sure enough Eddie shrugs, looking at his feet as he begins to talk.

“After you fell,”

“After you pushed me.”

“You still fell after I pushed you, to be fair.”

“True.”

“After you fell, I kind of had to grab you and get you to the front of the house. There were a lot of undead out there, but I think most of them had gone in the house, so they were just trying to clear out the ones outside so none of them could follow us.”

“That sounds like them, sure.”

“But then they saw me carrying you and-“

“Carrying me?”

“Well you didn’t walk there, Seamus.”

“Ugh.”

“Don’t be embarrassed! If I didn’t carry you someone else would have.”

“I’m not embarrassed, I just-“

“You’re embarrassed.” Eddie nudges him gently. “It’s whatever. Anyway, when they saw you were in trouble they told me they’d deal with the rest, and to go here and wait. I drove for a really long time but this is the place Dan was telling me to go. That was a while ago.”

Seamus stares out at the distant treeline. Eddie had parked them in the middle of a giant grassy field, just off the side of one of the paved roads. Both ends of it disappear into woodland and the world is silent.

“And you’ve been here since?”

“Yep. Mostly waiting for you to wake up.”

“Aw.” Seamus chides sarcastically.

“Listen!” Eddie objects. “This time it really was someone’s fault that someone else got hurt, I’m allowed to be worried!”

Seamus chuckles. It’s hard to keep his head up right now, so he resigns himself to burying his face into his arms where it’s dark and soft.

“Don’t be a James about this.” He mutters from the depths of his hoodie. There’s another squeeze on his arm.

“Don’t worry about it. You woke up, you know who I am, I think we’re good.”

They sit in the silence for a few moments more. In the distance birds start their own wake-up routine, greeting the pink sky with shrill songs. Crickets in the grass die down as the world around them brightens and Seamus nudges Eddie’s knee with his own.

“Thanks, by the way. For saving my life.”

“No problem. I guess you could say I was just returning the favor.”

Seamus chuckles. “I guess so.”

“I wasn’t about to let you be right about us being a bad idea, you know!”

“Well, you did a pretty okay job.”

Eddie’s looking at him. Seamus peeks up from the confines of his hoodie to take in the kindness of his face. He looks exhausted, drained, and so, so happy. So, kind of the way Seamus feels.

Eddie’s skin takes on a warmer hue as he speaks next, looking directly an inch and a half away from Seamus’ eyes.

“And I mean.” He says, “I wasn’t about to lose you before I, you know, told you I loved you or anything.”

Seamus could laugh, for as red and embarrassed as Eddie goes a second later. The other boy tries not to grin with the confession but, being Eddie, fails miserably and instead moves to drop his head in his hands. Seamus just shakes his head, letting the words reverberate through him. It is, technically, the second day they’ve been “together.” But Seamus knows more than anything else that he’s loved him for a lot, lot longer.

He presses a soft kiss to the exposed apple of Eddie’s cheek. His head is swimming for a thousand different reasons.

“Yeah, I love you too.”

It’s incredible how fast Eddie forgets that he very recently pushed his paramour out a very tall window on to some rocks below. It’s the only explanation for how he turns to face Seamus a second later with wide, sun-bright eyes and a wider smile, grasping him in a tight hug and rocking backwards, almost dragging the both of them off the car’s hood.

“Ow! Eddie, ow ow ow!” Seamus protests as the pain flares up again. Eddie releases him a second later, apologizing profusely while he does so and Seamus just shakes his head.

“Is it too late to take it back?” Seamus asks, rubbing idly at a sore spot on his arm. Eddie kisses the side of his face.

“Yes.”

“Damn.”

They sit in the quiet for a bit longer, just enjoying the company and body heat and presence of a loved one and watching the sun climb its way up the horizon. This isn’t how Seamus had imagined it all those lonely nights ago, not at all, but he’s not complaining.

 

Then there’s a noise from behind them. A low grumbling that climbs the road with building speed. Turning, Seamus can just see the Toyota careening down the road at speeds he’d not known the little car could reach. As it comes closer he can just see Jordan behind the wheel, a huge grin on his face. And as the little silver car comes to see them as well, James yanks his window down from the back seat, shoving the top half of his body out and waving with a cheer.

Eddie returns this enthusiastically while Seamus musters a wave. The car slows, settling to a weak pace before swerving to the side of the road. They clown-pile out of it, or at least it seems that way with how James scrambles out first with fists raised in victory, followed soon by Aleks who maneuvers his way out while also leaning on his cane. Dan rounds the side of the car with the widest eyes Seamus has ever seen him having, and when Jordan steps out, Seamus can just see how smattered and covered with dark goo he is.

“Looks like you guys had some fun.” Seamus calls as they come close. Raising his voice makes his head pound but it’s worth it to hear them cheer again.

“Did you get ‘em?” Eddie asks, sliding off the hood. Seamus stays stationary.

“As many as we could.” Dan reports. “The fire got most of them though, the rest was just clean-up.”

“That sounds awesome!” Eddie cheers.

“It was.” Dan continues, “James and Jordan climbed on top of the car and just went crazy with the bow and shovel. It was something to see.”

“Woah!” Eddie coos. Seamus rolls his eyes. Everything hurts.

“So we’re all good, then?” He asks.

“As good as we can get for now.” Jordan says, trying to keep the excitement in his voice at a low. “As long as we get out of this place soon, I think we can say we made it out unscathed.”

Seamus snorts. “Mostly unscathed.”

Attention turns to him then, as the group crowds around him and gives him a quick once over. No broken bones or severely bleeding wounds, just a nasty bump on the head. At this Jordan laughs, prompting Seamus to ask all too fast what he finds so funny.

“Don’t you remember?” Jordan asks, rounding the back of the blue car. There’s a click from behind them, and then Jordan is bringing forward the first-aid kit he’d packed in there the day prior. Seamus drops his head into his arms.

“Oh my _god_.”

 

Four nighttime aspirin, some seriously stinging antibacterial spread and a few thin torn sleeves acting as bandages later, and Seamus is once again fighting fit. Well, in the sense that he can move his head without wanting to barf, and that not _everything_ hurts now. Still, as they start to mill around the fronts of cars and discuss the route they’ll take that day, it becomes very clear that he is not up to being behind the wheel for the next day.

“James, you’ll have to take this one.” Seamus says, getting settled into the passenger’s seat of the blue car and pulling his hoodie down over his eyes. James loiters with the others outside his window. “It’s not hard, trust me. Just watch the car in front and don’t fuck up, you’ll do great.”

“Actually.” James says, and Seamus peeks an eye out of his cocoon. “I was thinking that maybe Eddie could drive you, and I could ride with Hordan and Dan?”

Instantly and unhesitantly, all eyes turn to Aleks, who once again rolls his eyes.

“I told you, I don’t actually want to ride in separate cars, I-“

“No, it’s not about you.” James cuts him off. “I mean, yeah, it kind of is. But Eddie also just kind of almost lost someone real important to him, you know? And I know how that feels. So I think, to be nice to him, they should share a car for a while. That’s all.”

Aleks wears a dry smile and shakes his head, but he spares no further objections. He knows James is bluffing. Everyone does. That doesn’t make them appreciate it any less.

Seamus doesn’t say anything either, not about to turn down the opportunity when he’s spent a collective two conscious hours with Eddie this past day. He watches out his window as all eyes turn to Eddie, who is gazing at James like he has just given him handfuls of gold.

“Yeah, James.” He says through a wide grin. “Yeah, I’d really like that.”

 

After that they split up, James getting settled into the back of the silver car while Eddie adjusts the blue car for his longer legs. He and Aleks chatter excitedly to one another about what went down after Eddie booked it from the farmhouse, and before long they’re back on the road.

Once the car lulls to a comfortable quiet, a warm hand reaches across the center console and finds Seamus’ own. There’s a light squeeze on his palm that brings him out of his hoodie just far enough to see Eddie watching him with a grin.

“What?” Seamus asks.

“Nothing.” Eddie replies. “Just enjoying the view.”

Seamus scoffs, offhandedly sighing that Eddie’s an idiot before letting his heavy head fall back into warm darkness. The last thing he takes in before the antibiotics pull him under are Eddie’s fingers wrapped around his own, and the bright horizon that they drive forward into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, thanks for reading!


End file.
